Fic: Emotions in Limine for gleebigbang {Part 2 of 4}
Title: Emotions in Limine
Rating: NC-17
Summary: As one of the founding partners at The Firm of Hummel, Lopez, and Smythe, Kurt is far too busy to worry about a personal life - on top of the stress of trying to make a name for himself as one of the most promising young attorneys in the Midwest, he’s got to keep a handle on his own office politics, which consist of Santana hooking up with their receptionist and Sebastian trying to get into his pants. When they hire a few new paralegals to help with their impending caseload, the last thing Kurt expects is to fall in love with one Blaine Anderson - and especially not on the eve of his thirtieth birthday. Can their secret office romance survive when their coworkers are quite possibly the nosiest group of people in the whole state of Illinois?
See full notes at the master post.
Kurt met Finn for breakfast an hour and a half later at Yolk - the only good thing about being up early on a Sunday was beating the brunch crowd, and though he was fairly certain he’d pulled Finn away from something, he didn’t really care. It was his birthday and he didn’t get to see his stepbrother nearly enough and perhaps if they hadn’t been so rudely awakened by Sugar, things would have worked out differently and he wouldn’t have had to bother Finn so early, but it had, so he did.
(Not that Kurt was letting himself play the ‘what if’ game. That never ended well. Never.)
Finn was late, even though Kurt had given him plenty of notice, but Kurt didn’t mind. He secured a table, sipping on coffee and orange juice while he waited, and when Finn showed up, there was no question about it - Kurt had pulled him away from someone of the female persuasion.
Some things might have changed since high school, but Finn’s stupid happy post-coital expression hadn’t.
Kurt tried not to think of how Finn and Rachel had been dancing together the night before at the bar. Another thought that wouldn’t end well.
Luckily, he’d barely seen Finn since Christmas, so there was plenty to talk about while easily avoiding whatever had happened the night before. Carole and how she’d been busy getting her garden ready for the summer, how the pool cleaning business Finn and Puck ran was busy enough now that neither Finn nor Puck had personally cleaned a pool all spring thanks to their growing staff and how they were thinking of expanding, opening a branch maybe Toledo or Ft. Wayne. How Kurt was staying put and not traveling for the remainder of the year and how he should drive out to Lima to visit.
Once the waitress brought Kurt’s eggs Benedict and Finn’s bacon waffle, the conversation stayed on Kurt’s work, and Kurt explained more about the new paralegals, trying to keep things as vague as possible. He didn’t want to seem as if he was revealing more than he should know about Blaine or give Finn info he shouldn’t have about Rachel. The few times he did mention Rachel, he could see Finn’s eyes light up.
“Have you ever heard Blaine or Rachel sing?” Finn asked before stuffing a huge piece of syrup coated waffle in his mouth.
Sing? “No, do they?” Kurt asked, even though he knew Blaine had sung in high school and college, and he thought he heard something about Rachel too - but nothing currently.
Finn looked a little like he’d been caught in the headlights. “Uh. I mean. Rachel just mentioned last night - at the bar - that she usually sings at open mic night at some other bar most Saturdays. And she’d convinced Blaine to go with her a few times and they were working on Sugar. Just didn’t know if you or Santana had maybe been since you guys used to sing in Cheerios routines for Nationals and stuff.”
Kurt stabbed a breakfast potato, mulling over the info. He couldn’t blame Blaine for not inviting him along - he had told Blaine he’d wanted to be an actor in New York after all, but he hadn’t mentioned he could also sing. It probably should have been a given, but there were stage actors in New York City, after all. “No, I didn’t realize they did that. Interesting.” They ate in silence for a bit, Finn realizing he’d probably said something wrong, and Kurt didn’t want him to feel bad. “Finn, you know I’m not angry at you for - anything, right? I’m just cranky about turning thirty.” Well, that was part of the reason at least.
“No, I know, man. We’re cool.” Finn offered him a grin and they didn’t talk about Blaine or Rachel for the rest of the meal.
Kurt first realized something was wrong that night after dinner. He’d stopped by the grocery store after his breakfast with Finn, picking up a bottle of wine and a few things to make dinner for himself. He didn’t have the time to cook nearly enough and still enjoyed spending time in the kitchen. He’d also picked up a single slice of cheesecake from Eli’s while he was out, and while he was enjoying it in front of the TV with one last glass of wine, he felt his stomach gurgle.
By midnight, he hadn’t left the bathroom in hours and had a text from Finn saying he wasn’t feeling so hot either and Carole mentioned that it looked like the flu.
By five-thirty, Kurt was fairly certain he’d emptied the full contents of his stomach, and he knew Sugar would already be up. She got up early every morning weekdays to work out at the gym. “What’s up buttercup?” she asked cheerily when she answered. He could hear the treadmill running in the background.
“I think I have the flu,” he croaked. “I’ve been up all night and Finn has the flu and I’m guessing he gave it to me.”
“Well, that’s an awful birthday present! You just stay home and get better, honey! Call Quinn later if you think you need to, but you stay home!”
“Yeah,” Kurt replied, because there was no way. “If anyone else comes down with it, send them home, Sugar. The last thing I want is this making the rounds at the office. Today and tomorrow at least.”
“You got it! You go to sleep and we’ll call and check on you later, sweetie, okay? Don’t die on me, I like your face!”
Kurt fell into bed and didn’t wake up until almost five when Sugar called him back. He’d slept for almost twelve hours. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept that long. Sugar said she’d just left his place. She’d left a box with the doorman with things she thought he might need, and she’d called all of his meetings for the next three days and rescheduled them for next week, or in the case of one very irate Mrs. Rosenthal, Santana met with her personally. Quinn and Blaine were fine on the Schuester case, though concerned (and he wondered how much concern was Blaine’s and how much was Quinn’s) and Rachel had called out sick as well (he really wasn’t surprised).
Kurt called downstairs and told the doorman to leave the box outside his door, so he wouldn’t get sick either, and when he found the strength to go out and fetch it, he found boxes of cold and flu medicine, a thermometer, saltine crackers, rice and broth from his favorite Chinese restaurant, a few bottles of Gatorade, a loaf of bread for toast, boxes of Kleenex, and a note with Sugar’s swirly handwriting and a smiley face. It looked like Brittany had doodled flowers on it.
Kurt took his temperature - one hundred and two - and popped two of the nighttime cold and flu gelcaps from their plastic and foil packaging, swallowing them down with some Gatorade, and put what needed to be kept cold in the refrigerator before collapsing back into bed.
By Wednesday afternoon, Kurt was feeling almost human again. His fever had broken late Tuesday night, and Wednesday he was actually able to eat some of the food Sugar had sent aside from just Gatorade and saltines. He took a shower and washed his hair and stripped his bed and put the sheets in the wash and moved to the couch for a change of scenery. He’d spoken with Quinn earlier in the day to go over a few things (and he knew he was going to have to go to the office on Saturday to get caught up from the three days he’d missed, even though he'd be in on Thursday and Friday) and was half-engrossed in a trashy reality TV show when his phone rang.
It was a New York area code, a number he didn’t recognize. He rejected the call, sending it straight to voicemail, figuring if it was anyone important, a message would be left.
He listened for the tell-tale voicemail bleep, and wasted no time swiping his fingers over the screen to listen. Hey, Kurt heard and he recognized the voice instantly. Blaine. I, ah, got your number from Brittany, I hope that’s okay. I know she said you’ll be in tomorrow, I just - I know Sugar brought you some stuff on Monday, but if you need anything, let me know, I can bring you soup or something, or just keep you company if you’re going crazy being cooped up. I - I don’t even know why I called, really, but, call me back if you want, or I’ll see you tomorrow.
Kurt’s stomach grumbled at the mention of soup. He hadn’t had a fever in almost twenty-four hours, and even though he could call the deli down the street and they’d deliver chicken soup right to the doorman, he was going a little crazy with almost no human contact in over three days. It also didn’t help that the cold medicine Sugar had bought kept him pleasantly loopy - she must have had to sign her life away for it.
He pressed the button to call Blaine back - he still wasn’t quite sure why, this was the same man who couldn’t get away from him fast enough just a few days ago, and he had almost talked himself into hanging up when Blaine answered (in retrospect, hanging up would have been a nightmare the next day).
“Hi,” Kurt breathed out when Blaine said his name on the other end. “Have you all self destructed at the office without me?”
Kurt heard Blaine laugh, and damnit, why did he have to have such a nice laugh? “We’ve held down the fort. You up for some soup and company?”
Kurt found himself saying sure, and calling the doorman to let Blaine up when he arrived. He turned off the TV and walked around, making sure his place looked semi presentable and putting a clean set of sheets on his bed, and half-wondered if he should change. He was wearing a Northwestern tee and sweatpants that had to be ten years old, but they were soft and broken in and perfect for sick days. The outfit and his flat, lifeless hair made him look awful, but before he could really worry about that, there was a soft knock on the door.
Blaine was dressed impeccably, of course, in his standard uniform of an oxford shirt, bow tie, and dress pants, holding two Intelligentsia cups and a brown paper bag. He thrust one of the cups in Kurt’s direction. “Decaf nonfat mocha. I figured you didn’t need the caffeine, but you were probably jonesing.”
Kurt took the cup from him and inhaled the familiar scent, a bit too deeply, because he promptly began to cough from the sudden intake of air. “You sure you want to come in?” he asked, wheezing a little.
Blaine came through the door and shut and locked it behind him, leading Kurt back to the couch. “Sugar said your fever broke yesterday. I’m sure you’re not contagious.” He sat down in the armchair next to the couch and began unloading the soup from the paper bag, along with some crusty sourdough bread. Kurt was quiet as they ate their soup, letting Blaine fill him in on what had happened at the firm in the past three days. Luckily, he hadn’t actually missed much, but it would be nice going in the following day a little more prepared.
Once they finished, Blaine gathered all the trash and carried it to the kitchen, and Kurt decided to lie down, propping his head against the throw pillows and the arm of the couch so he could still see Blaine once he sat back down, what was left of his mocha warming his hands. “You’re kind of a weird guy, did you know that?” Kurt said as Blaine settled in the chair, and a little voice at the very back of his head told him he should be very, very worried about his lack of filter.
“Oh, really?” Blaine said, sounding amused and leaning forward on his knees, his own coffee cup sitting on the table. “Do tell why I’m so weird.”
“Because the last time you were here, you couldn’t get out of here fast enough, and now, here you are, bringing me soup and coffee like we’re friends.” Silence. “Oh my god, I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud. I am never taking cold medicine from Sugar again,” Kurt said quickly, all in one breath, willing himself to stare at the ceiling. Maybe if he closed his eyes, when he opened them Blaine would be gone. This was all some crazy, drug-induced dream.
Yet when he opened them, Blaine was still there, looking worried, and no, he didn’t get to look worried, that wasn’t fair. “Okay, Blaine, I think the time has come for me to say thanks for the dinner and get back to bed. I’m obviously a bit delirious. Let me walk you to the door.” He sat up far too fast and fell back down against the pillows. “As soon as the room stops spinning.”
Kurt shut his eyes tightly and tried to count to ten to let his equilibrium right itself a bit, trying to control his breathing, but his eyes cracked opened slightly when he felt the couch cushions dip. Blaine was suddenly next to him, his expression full of pity, and Kurt wasn’t sure which was worse. “Blaine,” Kurt tried to say, but Blaine shushed him, placing a single finger to his lips which just reminded Kurt of Blaine sucking on his on Saturday night. God, he was really out of it.
“I - I should probably apologize,” Blaine started, and he looked nervous - why was Blaine nervous? “I shouldn’t have run out of here like that. I thought - I guess I thought if I left it would make things less awkward the next day. That if I was the one who left, I wouldn’t have to put you in a bad position. But, then you didn’t come in, and at first I thought I’d just made things really awkward, but you were sick, of course…” Blaine trailed off and used his fingers to brush Kurt’s bangs out of his face. They felt cool against his forehead, a welcome change, kind of comforting.
Kurt closed his eyes to the touch and sighed. “Blaine, you don’t have to explain yourself,” he murmured, as Blaine continued running his fingers through Kurt’s hair, soft and gentle.
“No, I know, I want to.” Blaine didn’t speak for a few minutes, just kept moving his hand through Kurt’s hair. Kurt normally didn’t let people touch his hair. It was usually filled with a decent amount of product, and perfectly coiffed, but now it was freshly washed and product free, and after having no human interaction at all since his breakfast with Finn, it felt absolutely wonderful. “When I found out you were really sick, I felt bad. If I had just not been an ass, I could have come over and taken care of you. I have this … thing about taking care of the people I care about. I know Sugar brought you stuff … but I also know you were here alone.”
Kurt opened his eyes at Blaine’s words and saw him smiling slightly. He smiled back, trying to ignore the fluttering in his chest (because, hello, of course Blaine cared about him, he was there) and shut his eyes again, leaning a little bit into Blaine’s touch. “You would have just gotten sick yourself,” he pointed out, “though it’s your fault I met Finn for breakfast. I was going to blow him off and stay here with you, but …”
“I got a flu shot this year, I would have risked it.” Kurt could hear the smile in Blaine’s voice, his fingertips still dancing over Kurt’s scalp. His hand stilled for a moment and Blaine said, “And I’m sorry about that, Kurt, I truly am. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“You can start by going back to petting my hair,” Kurt said softly, and Blaine chuckled, following Kurt’s request. “You really don’t owe me anything, though, you know that, right?”
“Yep.” They sat quietly for a while, Blaine continuing to stroke Kurt’s hair, Kurt feeling so comfortable that he almost drifted off to sleep. At some point, Blaine must have taken the coffee cup from his hands without him realizing, because it was magically gone. “Alright, sleepyhead,” Blaine said eventually, his voice low and soothing. “I think you’ve entertained enough for the day. Time to get you back in bed.”
“Mmm,” Kurt murmured, because his bed did sound nice. Before he could find the strength to get up though, he felt Blaine’s arms around him, lifting him off the couch. “Blaine!” he exclaimed. “What are you doing? You can’t carry me.”
“Sure I can,” Blaine replied, and Kurt opened his eyes to see Blaine grinning at him. “I’m stronger than I look.”
“And I’m heavier than I look. I’m all dead weight …” Kurt trailed off then, because Blaine was actually carrying him to the bedroom and that was impressive, because Kurt had at least two inches on the guy. He remembered Blaine’s strong arms from Saturday night, the strong arms he felt under his shoulders and knees now, and huffed when Blaine finally laid him down on the right side of the bed. “Show off,” he muttered, but he couldn’t help giving him a small smile. Blaine was still grinning wildly and not denying Kurt’s accusation.
“Do you want me to tuck you in?” Blaine asked sweetly, and Kurt was torn between wanting to smack him and being extremely touched. “Do you want me to stay until you fall asleep?”
“No, I’m too hot from the coffee and the soup.” And the strong, warm arms that carried me here. “And that would be nice. Can you get the fan?” Kurt asked, motioning towards the ceiling.
Blaine pulled one cord to turn off the light and then the other to turn on the fan before removing his shoes and hopping on the bed next to Kurt. “You don’t have to stay all the way over there,” Kurt said, launching an arm across the bed at Blaine, it landing softly in between them on the mattress. “Unless you’re worried about getting sick.”
“I wasn’t sure if you were too hot to cuddle,” Blaine said, taking Kurt’s hand and closing the gap between them. Kurt knew he should probably move closer to Blaine as well, but was far too lazy, letting Blaine pull him until his head rested on Blaine’s chest and their sides were flush against each other.
“I’m never too hot for you,” Kurt mumbled against Blaine’s chest, and then realized how his words sounded. “Wait, that’s not what I meant.”
“You’re always too hot for me then?” Blaine teased, his fingers dancing in Kurt’s hair once more. “Or you’re always hot for me? I like that one better.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Kurt scoffed and he could feel Blaine’s laughter ruffle his hair.
“You must be feeling better if you’re able to throw insults my way.” Kurt was feeling a bit better than he had when Blaine arrived. He was still tired, almost tired enough to fall asleep. He felt so nice and cozy tucked under Blaine’s arm and was content to stay that way.
“Something like that.”
Kurt wasn’t sure when he actually fell asleep, but he awoke to Blaine solid and warm underneath him and his legs were wrapped around one of Blaine’s. He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d been dreaming about either since his brain was still plenty hazy from the cold medicine, but he realized a few moments after waking that his dick was pressed up against Blaine’s hip - and he was hard. He sat up quickly, startling Blaine, who tried to shush him and coax him back down to the bed. “Shhh, it’s okay, did you have a nightmare?”
Kurt tried not to laugh as Blaine rubbed soothingly at his back. A nightmare. Right. “No, I’m just … not used to waking up next to anyone.”
Yes, because that sounded so much better.
“What time is it?” he asked to change the subject, his throat still a little harsh from sleep and his voice coming out scratchy.
“A little after eight. You slept over an hour.” Kurt groaned, trying to focus on Blaine’s hand on his back and the rapid beating of his heart and trying to ignore anything else.
“Did you just … lie here with me?” Kurt asked once his heart rate had calmed a little. “How boring, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’m glad you got some more sleep.” Kurt refrained from pointing out he’d probably slept more than he usually did in a week over the past three days. Blaine’s hand stilled, his palm flat against the middle of Kurt’s back. “You okay? You seem awfully … tense.”
“Yeah, I just can’t seem to get comfy, I guess,” Kurt answered lamely, shifting a bit in an attempt to try to get comfortable - an attempt he knew would fail.
“Well, it’s your bed and you’re sick, we have to find a way to make you comfortable. Get back over here,” Blaine said, and he pulled Kurt closer, back to his original position. If he hadn’t felt Kurt’s erection before, he certainly had now. “Hey, stop that,” Blaine protested when Kurt stiffened in his arms even more, clucking his tongue at him. “It’s okay, just relax.” He ran his fingers through Kurt’s hair, trying to soothe him, even dropping a kiss on the top of his head.
Kurt tried with all his might to actually relax, but it was suddenly even hotter in the room than before, and Blaine was so close and Kurt’s dream kept coming back to him in flashes, snippets of him pounding into Blaine and his perfect, perfect ass in the very bed they were lying in, which certainly didn’t help his hard on situation.
“Kurt,” Blaine started, laying Kurt against the pillows and inching down so his face was flush with Kurt’s. “Kurt, you’re shivering a little, are you okay? Are you cold? I can turn off the fan.”
Kurt hadn’t even realized it, but he was trembling, just barely, so he wouldn’t give in and start rutting up against Blaine’s side like he wanted to. “I’m sorry, I’m a mess,” he replied with a shaky laugh. “I think - I probably just need to go back to sleep.”
“Oh, Kurt,” Blaine murmured, placing a soft kiss on Kurt’s temple. Kurt would have normally been embarrassed at the whine that came out of his mouth at the contact, but he was temporarily past the point of caring. As Blaine moved to kiss the other side of Kurt’s forehead, his arms wrapped around Kurt’s shoulders, his palms flat against Kurt’s back once more, just slight pressure that felt so comforting and good. “Kurt, it’s okay, you should … you should let me take care of you.” Blaine’s words were hesitant at first, as if he was worried about how Kurt would take them.
“But I’m sick,” Kurt whimpered feebly, pretty much just protesting for the sake of protesting. It seemed like the right thing to do, even though he wanted Blaine, possibly even more than he had on Saturday, and how messed up was that?
“I know you are, silly,” Blaine replied, his voice warm but not even a tiny bit patronizing. “Let me try to make you feel a little bit better.”
Kurt didn’t trust his voice, so he simply nodded and shut his eyes, hearing Blaine exhale sharply when he did. Suddenly, Blaine’s lips were gentle and soft against his and Kurt finally relaxed, melting against him. “That’s more like it,” Blaine whispered against his mouth, and Kurt laughed, wheezing slightly at the sudden change in his breathing.
Kurt lost track of how long they kissed, the slow drag of their lips against each other. Blaine never tried to deepen their kisses, and ignored any attempts on Kurt’s part to do so. “Blaine,” Kurt finally whispered in between, and Blaine hummed happily into the next one in response. “I’m sick, but I’m not dead.”
Instead of retorting back, Blaine simply parted his lips slightly, just enough for Kurt’s tongue to slip through. Blaine’s hands were still moving deftly over Kurt’s back, slowly up to his shoulders and then back down to his waist. Kurt found his fingers tugging at Blaine’s bow tie, which was already a little loose. Blaine grunted slightly when Kurt’s fingers pulled, kisses slightly off-center afterwards and Kurt filed that information away for later. “You should get comfortable too, you know.”
Kurt watched as Blaine’s fingers quickly worked at the buttons of his shirt, and then his belt and pants, getting up to drop them all on the floor along with his bow tie and socks, climbing back into bed only wearing a tight white undershirt and similarly tight dark boxer briefs. Kurt’s hands reached out to grip Blaine’s tiny waist, but he batted them away. “I wasn’t kidding about wanting to take care of you.”
Kurt relented, letting Blaine kiss down his neck and into the dip of his tee shirt. Blaine’s hands slid under his shirt, his palms cool even though it seemed as if he’d had his hands on Kurt in some way or fashion for hours. He nudged his knee against Kurt’s, sliding a leg between his, and oh, that was it, that was the pressure Kurt needed. Kurt made the same awful whining noise as he had when Blaine first kissed him, and Blaine chuckled and shushed him, running his hands higher under Kurt’s shirt, fingertips catching on his nipples. Kurt’s hips stuttered forward at the contact, his cock rutting up against Blaine’s thigh, his hands reaching out to Blaine’s biceps to steady himself.
“How are you so stunning,” Blaine whispered against the hollow just under Kurt’s ear, placing a kiss to punctuate his words, “when you’re not even feeling well?” Kurt normally would have rolled his eyes at Blaine’s words, but instead he sighed and leaned even further into his touch. He’d worked himself up so much before Blaine kissed him that he knew he wasn’t going to last long, but he didn’t expect to come with no warning mere seconds after Blaine slipped his hand between his threadbare sweatpants and his skin.
“Fuck.” The words were barely out of Kurt’s mouth before Blaine was covering it with his own, kissing him just as soft as before. “That was … unexpected,” Kurt added when they broke, turning his face into the pillow and groaning a little.
“It’s okay,” Blaine said with a laugh, his fingers scratching at the base of Kurt’s neck. “You’re sick, and it’s not like that wasn’t the intended outcome all along.”
“Next time will be more thrilling, I swear.” If there is a next time. Kurt turned slightly to meet Blaine’s eye again, and he was grinning wildly, like he was holding back a juicy secret. “What?” Blaine’s grin was contagious and Kurt couldn’t help smiling a bit back at him.
“Oh, nothing,” Blaine said slowly, and he was really having too much fun with this, wasn’t he? “Just earlier, while you were asleep - let’s just say I got the general idea of what was probably happening in your dreams.”
Kurt’s eyes grew wide and he resisted the urge to bury his head back in the pillows once more. He rarely talked in his sleep, but he didn’t doubt it being a crazy side effect of the medication Sugar sent him. No taking that back, might as well own it. “It’s all your fault for having such a nice ass. You are aware of that fact, right?” Kurt asked, raising his eyebrows at him.
“I think I’ve heard that one before,” Blaine replied, his grin turning wicked, before dropping his voice. “It’s always nice to have someone who appreciates it.”
Kurt turned back against the pillows to groan, because Blaine just couldn’t tease him like that. In his wallowing, he was not-so-pleasantly reminded that he had, in fact, come in his sweatpants and he should do something about that. “I should probably take another shower,” he said into the pillow.
“I should probably help you,” Blaine added quickly, gaping a bit when Kurt looked at him suspiciously. “What? You might get overheated again. I should be there just in case.”
Kurt clucked his tongue, but let Blaine follow him into the bathroom regardless. He started the shower and stared at his reflection in the mirror while the water heated. “God, I look awful,” he stated, poking a finger at his paler-than-usual skin. Thankfully, he was distracted by Blaine shedding his underclothes in the mirror behind him.
“Do not,” Blaine protested, and he came up behind Kurt, helping him out of his tee shirt and sticky sweatpants. Kurt watched in the mirror, oddly entranced by Blaine undressing him and dropping a kiss to his shoulder. “Come on,” Blaine said, tugging him away, “it must be warm by now?”
It was, and actually almost too hot since Blaine did have a point about overheating in Kurt’s weakened state. Kurt fiddled with the knobs to turn down the heat and stood under the spray as Blaine climbed in behind him. He let the water fall down his chest, breathing the steam in, before turning around and actually taking all of Blaine in for the first time. Blaine was naked - obviously - and still hard. He hadn’t come earlier. Kurt knew he should have remembered that, but it hadn’t actually occurred to him. “Someone should take care of that,” he said, nodding his head in the direction of Blaine’s cock and stepping out of the spray so he could switch places with Blaine and soap up.
“You’re sick,” Blaine mentioned for what seemed like the hundredth time that night before ducking his head under the spray to wet his hair.
“I said someone, I didn’t say me,” Kurt quipped back, and Blaine laughed loudly, shaking the water from his eyes, and god, he was really gorgeous, wasn’t he?
They switched places again - and really, this was why Kurt never got the appeal of joint showers. So much switching back and forth and taking twice as long to get clean. He supposed if he had a very naked Blaine to shower with, though, once in a while might be worth the effort.
He handed off the shampoo to Blaine as he rinsed off, watching as he raised his arms to work the shampoo through his hair with both hands. Yeah, Kurt could probably get used to showering with Blaine, if just for the view. They switched once more, Kurt leaning his back up against the cool tile while Blaine washed the shampoo out and grabbed the conditioner from the built-in shelf. His cock was still hard as ever, curving backwards towards his toned stomach, and Kurt could feel his own dick wanting so badly to do the same, even though he was positive there was no way he could come again.
“It’s not nice to stare,” Blaine teased before ducking back under the water to wash the conditioner out of his hair, but from his tone, Kurt didn’t think he really minded all that much.
“I’m sick,” he mimicked back to Blaine before continuing. “I was just thinking I’d feel really bad if I sent you all the way home on the L like that.”
Blaine turned the temperature down on the water some more before heading to the back of the shower where Kurt was still pressed up against the wall. “You sure you’re okay to stay in here a little longer?”
“Yeah,” Kurt answered, pretending in his head that his raspy voice was sexy and not revolting. Blaine didn’t waste any time in kissing him, more insistently than before (probably realizing quicker was better in this case), their wet lips sliding easily against each other. Kurt anchored himself on the arm that didn’t contain the hand wrapped around Blaine’s dick, and he nosed at Blaine’s chin a little, moving his head out of the way. “I want to see,” he whispered, and Blaine buried his head into the crook of Kurt’s neck, and groaned.
When Kurt was feeling steady enough, he snaked his hand around to Blaine’s ass, flattening his palm against the cheek and Blaine moaned again at the contact. Kurt tugged him closer until Blaine’s fist bumped his hip, hard enough to probably hurt the way Blaine’s hand was moving over his dick even more furiously than before. Blaine’s lips were against Kurt’s neck, placing messy, open mouthed kisses wherever he could, and Kurt ducked his head to catch Blaine’s lips with his own. He felt Blaine’s breaths quicken against his mouth, and Blaine’s hips snapping in time with the movements of his fist, and Blaine’s lips started hitting random body parts in attempts to kiss Kurt (his cheek, his jaw, his neck).
“Kurt,” Blaine breathed against his skin, his back arching and pushing his ass harder against Kurt’s hand. “Kurt, please.”
Kurt whispered, “Shh,” against Blaine’s forehead, his arm reaching further around Blaine’s back so he could trail a finger down the crack of Blaine’s ass, the water on their skin letting it glide easily, but still not enough. It was all Blaine needed to push him over the edge, though, muttering a constant stream of nonsense as he came all over Kurt’s stomach, the shower wall - Kurt could make out his own name, and oh god, and thank you.
Blaine’s breathing steadied, and he placed a soft kiss to Kurt’s cheek as he pushed off the wall away from him. Kurt’s legs wobbled a bit without the support of someone to lean against, but Blaine caught him, leading him slowly over to the now-cool shower spray to wash off again.
Once newly cleaned, Kurt grabbed them towels from the adjacent linen closet to dry off with as Blaine turned off the water. He headed out to his closet to find a new pair of pajamas, since he couldn’t in good conscience put the old ones back on, and toyed with the idea of asking Blaine to stay. He decided against it though, knowing he should probably get a good night’s sleep before returning to work, and called out to ask if Blaine wanted to borrow anything to head home in.
“No, I’m fine,” Blaine replied, and Kurt pulled on a fresh tee shirt and underwear before deciding he should really lie down. “You okay?” Blaine asked as he pulled on his pants, looking mildly concerned.
“Yeah, I just needed a quick rest. That was a more active shower than I anticipated,” he said with a giggle, and god, he was smitten and delirious and it was wonderful. Blaine sat down on the edge of the bed next to him and Kurt reached up to run his fingers through Blaine’s hair for once. “It’s curly. I like it,” Kurt said softly before adding, “I like your normal look too, though.”
Blaine smiled at his words and said, “I think you really just like me.”
Kurt closed his eyes and clasped his hand in Blaine’s. “I just might.”
Kurt woke up with a start when his alarm went off Thursday morning, trying to figure out if the previous day had just been an extremely trippy dream. When he sat up, he realized Blaine's socks were lying in the middle of his bedroom floor.
Apparently not.
What had he been thinking? What had Blaine been thinking?
He groaned loudly, no one around to hear him, and finally forced himself to get up and get ready for the day.
Brittany threw her arms around him at once when he walked through the double doors a few hours later. "Don't ever get sick again," she pleaded. "Santana and Sebastian argued the whole time, and I know Santana always says I'm biased, like, I'd be a terrible witness in anything involving her, but Sebastian was really, really awful."
Kurt patted at her back soothingly. Their fighting seemed to go in cycles, but it seemed as if at any given moment, two of the three of them were irrationally angry at each other, with the third party left to play mediator.
He tried not to burst into tears at the amount of paperwork piled on his desk when he entered his office, telling himself it was nothing a bit of elbow grease couldn't power through. Blaine peeked his head in at some point, slipping through his door and shutting it behind him. "Hi," he said, his voice nervous and a little wavering. "How are you feeling?"
"Better," Kurt answered, trying not to stare because Blaine had worn his glasses, making his eyes seem even larger than they usually did. "We - we should talk."
"Yeah," Blaine agreed, nodding vigorously, but making no movement to leave.
"Not now," Kurt intoned, returning his attention to the papers in his hand, and he could see Blaine nod again out of the corner of his eye.
"Right, right. See you at the morning meeting," he added before leaving Kurt to his work.
Kurt led the ten o'clock staff meeting, Santana and Sebastian still staring daggers at each other, and Kurt didn't have nearly enough energy to figure out what they were even fighting about. Rachel looked worse than he felt, and he noticed she wasn't quite meeting his eye. Hopefully her awkwardness would pass so he wouldn't have to talk to her as well.
Once the meeting adjourned, Kurt held Quinn and Blaine back. "I'm going to need to stay late tonight and tomorrow. It would help if I had someone to assist me, so one of you stay tonight and one tomorrow. Work it out between yourselves as to who's giving up their Friday night." Kurt waved his hand wearily, the gesture not having nearly as much pizazz as usual, but getting the point across all the same.
He worked straight through lunch in his office, Sugar sweet enough to bring him a sandwich, and at five-twenty, there was a knock on his door. Blaine. He figured Quinn would stay after; she would pull seniority so Blaine would have to stay Friday, but Blaine must have convinced her otherwise. The look on Blaine's face was just a touch terrified, and Kurt sighed heavily at the sight of him.
"Is everyone gone yet?" Kurt asked, and Blaine shook his head.
"Sugar is finishing up something with the time sheets, and Brittany was on her way out, but I'm not sure if she actually left. I think Sebastian is around too."
"Alright, well, sit down and stop looking like I'm about to kick your dog." Blaine looked concerned momentarily, as if he hadn't realized how downtrodden he'd looked. "Listen, I'm not mad, okay? Just ... confused."
Blaine relaxed slightly at Kurt's words. "I'm sorry."
Kurt wondered what exactly he was apologizing for (because there were so, so many options), but instead of asking, simply said, "You have nothing to be sorry for."
Blaine looked as if he still didn't quite believe him, but dropped the subject, helping Kurt carry their work to the conference room and getting to it. Sugar was the last to leave and she checked on them on her way out, putting in a dinner order for them before heading out the door, and finally, they were alone.
"Did you want to wait until the food arrives to talk?" Blaine asked, glancing up from the packet of papers in his hand to meet Kurt's eye for the first time that night.
"Can we wait until she gets out of the building at least?" Kurt sat his own packet of case documents on the table, pinching at the bridge of his nose.
"Are you sure you should be working late?" Blaine asked, his voice laced with concern. "You don't look very good."
Of course Kurt didn't look very good. He'd been staring at paperwork so long his eyes were swimming. He needed a nap and a proper meal and to not be worried about whatever he and Blaine were doing. "I'll be fine," he snapped, and Blaine didn't look like he believed a word Kurt said.
Blaine didn't pester him again until their order from Mario’s, the Italian place down the block, arrived. He went down to pick up their food and Kurt tried to clear off enough of the conference table for them to eat. "Okay, Kurt you're driving me crazy here."
"Just - what are we even thinking? I mean, my judgment was completely gone yesterday because I was sick and sort of out of it, but what - why?" Kurt hated that he was still so unwell, thinking so unclearly he couldn't even articulate how he felt. He was making no sense and he knew it.
Blaine's eyes grew wide and he stuttered for a moment. "I - I mean - I'm sorry if anything yesterday made you uncomfortable, I guess it got a little carried away, and I swear that wasn't my intent when I asked if I could come over. It's just you called me out on what happened on Sunday, and I have a tendency to overcompensate, and you were just so miserable -"
"Blaine, it's fine," Kurt finally said, cutting him off. "I just meant I might be even more confused than when I was when I asked about this weekend. I don't know what we're doing, basically. I'm your boss, Blaine."
"I know," Blaine whispered, and Kurt looked over at him. He was suddenly finding his spaghetti very interesting, twirling random strands around his fork, but never raising it to his mouth. "Sometimes I wish you weren't."
Kurt's heart dropped a little in his chest. "Not that I don't love working here," Blaine quickly blurted out. "This is the best job I've ever had, and the last thing I want to do is jeopardize that."
"Blaine, I want you to know, no matter what happens or happened, I would never -"
"I know you wouldn't," Blaine said firmly. "I trust you."
"That's a lot of trust for someone you've only known a few months." Blaine shrugged his shoulders, returning his attention back to his dinner, this time managing to eat a few bites.
"Where do we go from here?" Kurt finally asked, giving up on his lasagna even though half of it was left.
"I like you. You like me too, unless your medicine from yesterday made you out of it enough to lie."
Blaine reached for Kurt's hand across the wide conference table, and Kurt let him grip it, even though he had the urge to pull it away. "No, that was validly obtained information."
They locked eyes for a short moment, Blaine's warm and inviting, and Kurt could easily give up work for the rest of the night to gaze into them. Finally, Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand gently before pulling his away to continue eating. "I have no idea what I'm doing, Kurt. I don't have some crazy hidden agenda to sleep with my boss and get in his head, I just really like you."
"I like you too," Kurt said, "but I'm looking for something more than just sex. If you're not, that's fine, but I just wanted to be upfront." He hadn't been in a relationship in a while, since before the firm started, and Blaine's actions the day before made him forget how much he missed it. Someone to laugh with and cry with, someone to pick him up when he was down and lift him higher even when he wasn’t, someone for whom he could do the same. An equal. A partner. He’d been too career-oriented to date much over the past few years, and it was time to change that.
“I think you’re missing the point of what I said. I like you, not just the limited sexual encounters we’ve had.” Blaine was smirking, and Kurt attempted to roll his eyes and not grin, but his mouth betrayed him, a small smile playing on his lips. He hated feeling his cheeks heat up, how even at thirty he blushed just as much as he had in high school. “You should ask me out to dinner,” Blaine added, breaking Kurt’s internal dialogue.
“I should ask you out to dinner?” Kurt repeated, turning back towards Blaine and resting his chin on his hand.
“Sure,” Blaine replied, nodding vigorously and reaching for another garlic roll from the paper bag in between them. “I’ve heard some feedback that maybe I’m a little too aggressive, so the ball’s in your court, buddy.”
Cheeky bastard. “Stupid sports metaphors,” Kurt murmured under his breath. “I do appreciate yesterday, by the way,” he added. He twirled the straw wrapper from his iced tea in his fingers. “I … I have a hard time letting people take care of me.”
“I gathered that,” Blaine mused, cleaning up his empty food containers and placing them in the bags they came in. “So, there. I’ll refrain from using another sports metaphor, but no pressure. I know you have a ton to get caught up on and you’re still kind of sick. Take your time, I’ll be waiting.”
As Blaine gathered the trash to take down to the downstairs dumpster and not stink up the office, Kurt was still just as confused as to who Blaine actually was, but somehow it didn’t matter.
When Kurt arrived at the office Saturday afternoon, he found Santana already there, catching up on a bit of her own work. “Hummel, you don’t look half dead today! Congrats!” she deadpanned, but she was almost smiling.
“And you’re not biting my head off in Sebastian’s absence,” he quipped back, standing in her office doorway momentarily to chat. “What was all that about anyway?”
Santana shrugged, smiling smugly. “He made some offhanded tacky comment and I decided to push his buttons a little. That’s all you need to know.”
“So, the usual?” Kurt asked, smiling brightly at her, and she broke into laughter at that. “God, I can’t believe you two have gone eight years without killing each other. I swore after first year one of you wouldn’t graduate. And now here we are.”
“Well, I couldn’t let you and Sebastian go into practice alone together, even if I hadn’t been out of work. You’d just argue and fuck the whole time and get nothing done. So, now he argues with me, and then …” Santana trailed off, wiggling her eyebrows and Kurt’s jaw dropped to the floor. “What? You think I don’t know what happens on your little jet-setting rendezvous after you get a little liquor in you? Why do you think I keep insisting you two go?”
“Either way, it needs to stop,” Kurt snarled at her. “It was a horrible lapse in judgment, and I don’t want it happening again.”
“Fair enough,” she replied, sitting back in her desk chair and twirling her pencil between her fingers. “But speaking of horrible lapses in judgment … have you seen the way Blaine looks at you sometimes? I think he’s got some sickeningly adorable crush on you.”
Kurt’s throat went dry. Had Blaine’s attraction really been that obvious? Had Kurt really been that oblivious to it aside from the past few days? “Ooh, it looks like you haven’t. Very interesting. You should do something about that, Hummel. He’s compact and supple and have you seen his ass?”
Kurt rolled his eyes and turned on his heel before his cheeks flushed. “Some of us like to keep our love lives out of the office, Lopez!”
“I’d totes have your back!” she called as he walked briskly down the hall to his office.
Around seven, Kurt’s stomach began grumbling. Santana had left a few hours earlier, without a single mention more of Blaine, and Kurt figured he was almost caught up enough to leave for the night. He was contemplating running by the market for something for dinner - he’d had enough takeout for the week - when his phone buzzed with a text from Blaine.
are you at work on this fine Saturday evening? :)
Kurt shook his head ruefully before tossing his reading glasses on the desk and picking up his phone. I am. Was just about to get out of here.
A reply came almost instantly. Good. It’s getting too late to be at work. :) followed by I’m at Piece with Sugar and Rachel. Rachel’s trying to get Sugar to duet with her, but I think she’s going to be sorely disappointed when she hears Sugar actually sing.
Kurt laughed at the thought of Sugar’s excitement. Sugar loved to sing - but in no way was she actually good at it. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, trying to figure out if he should invite Blaine over. I’m about to stop by Dominick’s and pick up some food to make for dinner, he typed quickly before changing his mind. Are you hungry? You could join me if you don’t want to be stuck between two bickering women.
Kurt set the phone on his desk, trying not to watch for a response, turning his computer off and straightening the stacks of papers in front of him instead. Thankfully, his phone buzzed a few moments later. That sounds … perfect. I’d love to. Meet you in an hour?
He was out the door before he could even type a response.
<< Part one or part three >>
Rating: NC-17
Summary: As one of the founding partners at The Firm of Hummel, Lopez, and Smythe, Kurt is far too busy to worry about a personal life - on top of the stress of trying to make a name for himself as one of the most promising young attorneys in the Midwest, he’s got to keep a handle on his own office politics, which consist of Santana hooking up with their receptionist and Sebastian trying to get into his pants. When they hire a few new paralegals to help with their impending caseload, the last thing Kurt expects is to fall in love with one Blaine Anderson - and especially not on the eve of his thirtieth birthday. Can their secret office romance survive when their coworkers are quite possibly the nosiest group of people in the whole state of Illinois?
See full notes at the master post.
Kurt met Finn for breakfast an hour and a half later at Yolk - the only good thing about being up early on a Sunday was beating the brunch crowd, and though he was fairly certain he’d pulled Finn away from something, he didn’t really care. It was his birthday and he didn’t get to see his stepbrother nearly enough and perhaps if they hadn’t been so rudely awakened by Sugar, things would have worked out differently and he wouldn’t have had to bother Finn so early, but it had, so he did.
(Not that Kurt was letting himself play the ‘what if’ game. That never ended well. Never.)
Finn was late, even though Kurt had given him plenty of notice, but Kurt didn’t mind. He secured a table, sipping on coffee and orange juice while he waited, and when Finn showed up, there was no question about it - Kurt had pulled him away from someone of the female persuasion.
Some things might have changed since high school, but Finn’s stupid happy post-coital expression hadn’t.
Kurt tried not to think of how Finn and Rachel had been dancing together the night before at the bar. Another thought that wouldn’t end well.
Luckily, he’d barely seen Finn since Christmas, so there was plenty to talk about while easily avoiding whatever had happened the night before. Carole and how she’d been busy getting her garden ready for the summer, how the pool cleaning business Finn and Puck ran was busy enough now that neither Finn nor Puck had personally cleaned a pool all spring thanks to their growing staff and how they were thinking of expanding, opening a branch maybe Toledo or Ft. Wayne. How Kurt was staying put and not traveling for the remainder of the year and how he should drive out to Lima to visit.
Once the waitress brought Kurt’s eggs Benedict and Finn’s bacon waffle, the conversation stayed on Kurt’s work, and Kurt explained more about the new paralegals, trying to keep things as vague as possible. He didn’t want to seem as if he was revealing more than he should know about Blaine or give Finn info he shouldn’t have about Rachel. The few times he did mention Rachel, he could see Finn’s eyes light up.
“Have you ever heard Blaine or Rachel sing?” Finn asked before stuffing a huge piece of syrup coated waffle in his mouth.
Sing? “No, do they?” Kurt asked, even though he knew Blaine had sung in high school and college, and he thought he heard something about Rachel too - but nothing currently.
Finn looked a little like he’d been caught in the headlights. “Uh. I mean. Rachel just mentioned last night - at the bar - that she usually sings at open mic night at some other bar most Saturdays. And she’d convinced Blaine to go with her a few times and they were working on Sugar. Just didn’t know if you or Santana had maybe been since you guys used to sing in Cheerios routines for Nationals and stuff.”
Kurt stabbed a breakfast potato, mulling over the info. He couldn’t blame Blaine for not inviting him along - he had told Blaine he’d wanted to be an actor in New York after all, but he hadn’t mentioned he could also sing. It probably should have been a given, but there were stage actors in New York City, after all. “No, I didn’t realize they did that. Interesting.” They ate in silence for a bit, Finn realizing he’d probably said something wrong, and Kurt didn’t want him to feel bad. “Finn, you know I’m not angry at you for - anything, right? I’m just cranky about turning thirty.” Well, that was part of the reason at least.
“No, I know, man. We’re cool.” Finn offered him a grin and they didn’t talk about Blaine or Rachel for the rest of the meal.
Kurt first realized something was wrong that night after dinner. He’d stopped by the grocery store after his breakfast with Finn, picking up a bottle of wine and a few things to make dinner for himself. He didn’t have the time to cook nearly enough and still enjoyed spending time in the kitchen. He’d also picked up a single slice of cheesecake from Eli’s while he was out, and while he was enjoying it in front of the TV with one last glass of wine, he felt his stomach gurgle.
By midnight, he hadn’t left the bathroom in hours and had a text from Finn saying he wasn’t feeling so hot either and Carole mentioned that it looked like the flu.
By five-thirty, Kurt was fairly certain he’d emptied the full contents of his stomach, and he knew Sugar would already be up. She got up early every morning weekdays to work out at the gym. “What’s up buttercup?” she asked cheerily when she answered. He could hear the treadmill running in the background.
“I think I have the flu,” he croaked. “I’ve been up all night and Finn has the flu and I’m guessing he gave it to me.”
“Well, that’s an awful birthday present! You just stay home and get better, honey! Call Quinn later if you think you need to, but you stay home!”
“Yeah,” Kurt replied, because there was no way. “If anyone else comes down with it, send them home, Sugar. The last thing I want is this making the rounds at the office. Today and tomorrow at least.”
“You got it! You go to sleep and we’ll call and check on you later, sweetie, okay? Don’t die on me, I like your face!”
Kurt fell into bed and didn’t wake up until almost five when Sugar called him back. He’d slept for almost twelve hours. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept that long. Sugar said she’d just left his place. She’d left a box with the doorman with things she thought he might need, and she’d called all of his meetings for the next three days and rescheduled them for next week, or in the case of one very irate Mrs. Rosenthal, Santana met with her personally. Quinn and Blaine were fine on the Schuester case, though concerned (and he wondered how much concern was Blaine’s and how much was Quinn’s) and Rachel had called out sick as well (he really wasn’t surprised).
Kurt called downstairs and told the doorman to leave the box outside his door, so he wouldn’t get sick either, and when he found the strength to go out and fetch it, he found boxes of cold and flu medicine, a thermometer, saltine crackers, rice and broth from his favorite Chinese restaurant, a few bottles of Gatorade, a loaf of bread for toast, boxes of Kleenex, and a note with Sugar’s swirly handwriting and a smiley face. It looked like Brittany had doodled flowers on it.
Kurt took his temperature - one hundred and two - and popped two of the nighttime cold and flu gelcaps from their plastic and foil packaging, swallowing them down with some Gatorade, and put what needed to be kept cold in the refrigerator before collapsing back into bed.
By Wednesday afternoon, Kurt was feeling almost human again. His fever had broken late Tuesday night, and Wednesday he was actually able to eat some of the food Sugar had sent aside from just Gatorade and saltines. He took a shower and washed his hair and stripped his bed and put the sheets in the wash and moved to the couch for a change of scenery. He’d spoken with Quinn earlier in the day to go over a few things (and he knew he was going to have to go to the office on Saturday to get caught up from the three days he’d missed, even though he'd be in on Thursday and Friday) and was half-engrossed in a trashy reality TV show when his phone rang.
It was a New York area code, a number he didn’t recognize. He rejected the call, sending it straight to voicemail, figuring if it was anyone important, a message would be left.
He listened for the tell-tale voicemail bleep, and wasted no time swiping his fingers over the screen to listen. Hey, Kurt heard and he recognized the voice instantly. Blaine. I, ah, got your number from Brittany, I hope that’s okay. I know she said you’ll be in tomorrow, I just - I know Sugar brought you some stuff on Monday, but if you need anything, let me know, I can bring you soup or something, or just keep you company if you’re going crazy being cooped up. I - I don’t even know why I called, really, but, call me back if you want, or I’ll see you tomorrow.
Kurt’s stomach grumbled at the mention of soup. He hadn’t had a fever in almost twenty-four hours, and even though he could call the deli down the street and they’d deliver chicken soup right to the doorman, he was going a little crazy with almost no human contact in over three days. It also didn’t help that the cold medicine Sugar had bought kept him pleasantly loopy - she must have had to sign her life away for it.
He pressed the button to call Blaine back - he still wasn’t quite sure why, this was the same man who couldn’t get away from him fast enough just a few days ago, and he had almost talked himself into hanging up when Blaine answered (in retrospect, hanging up would have been a nightmare the next day).
“Hi,” Kurt breathed out when Blaine said his name on the other end. “Have you all self destructed at the office without me?”
Kurt heard Blaine laugh, and damnit, why did he have to have such a nice laugh? “We’ve held down the fort. You up for some soup and company?”
Kurt found himself saying sure, and calling the doorman to let Blaine up when he arrived. He turned off the TV and walked around, making sure his place looked semi presentable and putting a clean set of sheets on his bed, and half-wondered if he should change. He was wearing a Northwestern tee and sweatpants that had to be ten years old, but they were soft and broken in and perfect for sick days. The outfit and his flat, lifeless hair made him look awful, but before he could really worry about that, there was a soft knock on the door.
Blaine was dressed impeccably, of course, in his standard uniform of an oxford shirt, bow tie, and dress pants, holding two Intelligentsia cups and a brown paper bag. He thrust one of the cups in Kurt’s direction. “Decaf nonfat mocha. I figured you didn’t need the caffeine, but you were probably jonesing.”
Kurt took the cup from him and inhaled the familiar scent, a bit too deeply, because he promptly began to cough from the sudden intake of air. “You sure you want to come in?” he asked, wheezing a little.
Blaine came through the door and shut and locked it behind him, leading Kurt back to the couch. “Sugar said your fever broke yesterday. I’m sure you’re not contagious.” He sat down in the armchair next to the couch and began unloading the soup from the paper bag, along with some crusty sourdough bread. Kurt was quiet as they ate their soup, letting Blaine fill him in on what had happened at the firm in the past three days. Luckily, he hadn’t actually missed much, but it would be nice going in the following day a little more prepared.
Once they finished, Blaine gathered all the trash and carried it to the kitchen, and Kurt decided to lie down, propping his head against the throw pillows and the arm of the couch so he could still see Blaine once he sat back down, what was left of his mocha warming his hands. “You’re kind of a weird guy, did you know that?” Kurt said as Blaine settled in the chair, and a little voice at the very back of his head told him he should be very, very worried about his lack of filter.
“Oh, really?” Blaine said, sounding amused and leaning forward on his knees, his own coffee cup sitting on the table. “Do tell why I’m so weird.”
“Because the last time you were here, you couldn’t get out of here fast enough, and now, here you are, bringing me soup and coffee like we’re friends.” Silence. “Oh my god, I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud. I am never taking cold medicine from Sugar again,” Kurt said quickly, all in one breath, willing himself to stare at the ceiling. Maybe if he closed his eyes, when he opened them Blaine would be gone. This was all some crazy, drug-induced dream.
Yet when he opened them, Blaine was still there, looking worried, and no, he didn’t get to look worried, that wasn’t fair. “Okay, Blaine, I think the time has come for me to say thanks for the dinner and get back to bed. I’m obviously a bit delirious. Let me walk you to the door.” He sat up far too fast and fell back down against the pillows. “As soon as the room stops spinning.”
Kurt shut his eyes tightly and tried to count to ten to let his equilibrium right itself a bit, trying to control his breathing, but his eyes cracked opened slightly when he felt the couch cushions dip. Blaine was suddenly next to him, his expression full of pity, and Kurt wasn’t sure which was worse. “Blaine,” Kurt tried to say, but Blaine shushed him, placing a single finger to his lips which just reminded Kurt of Blaine sucking on his on Saturday night. God, he was really out of it.
“I - I should probably apologize,” Blaine started, and he looked nervous - why was Blaine nervous? “I shouldn’t have run out of here like that. I thought - I guess I thought if I left it would make things less awkward the next day. That if I was the one who left, I wouldn’t have to put you in a bad position. But, then you didn’t come in, and at first I thought I’d just made things really awkward, but you were sick, of course…” Blaine trailed off and used his fingers to brush Kurt’s bangs out of his face. They felt cool against his forehead, a welcome change, kind of comforting.
Kurt closed his eyes to the touch and sighed. “Blaine, you don’t have to explain yourself,” he murmured, as Blaine continued running his fingers through Kurt’s hair, soft and gentle.
“No, I know, I want to.” Blaine didn’t speak for a few minutes, just kept moving his hand through Kurt’s hair. Kurt normally didn’t let people touch his hair. It was usually filled with a decent amount of product, and perfectly coiffed, but now it was freshly washed and product free, and after having no human interaction at all since his breakfast with Finn, it felt absolutely wonderful. “When I found out you were really sick, I felt bad. If I had just not been an ass, I could have come over and taken care of you. I have this … thing about taking care of the people I care about. I know Sugar brought you stuff … but I also know you were here alone.”
Kurt opened his eyes at Blaine’s words and saw him smiling slightly. He smiled back, trying to ignore the fluttering in his chest (because, hello, of course Blaine cared about him, he was there) and shut his eyes again, leaning a little bit into Blaine’s touch. “You would have just gotten sick yourself,” he pointed out, “though it’s your fault I met Finn for breakfast. I was going to blow him off and stay here with you, but …”
“I got a flu shot this year, I would have risked it.” Kurt could hear the smile in Blaine’s voice, his fingertips still dancing over Kurt’s scalp. His hand stilled for a moment and Blaine said, “And I’m sorry about that, Kurt, I truly am. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“You can start by going back to petting my hair,” Kurt said softly, and Blaine chuckled, following Kurt’s request. “You really don’t owe me anything, though, you know that, right?”
“Yep.” They sat quietly for a while, Blaine continuing to stroke Kurt’s hair, Kurt feeling so comfortable that he almost drifted off to sleep. At some point, Blaine must have taken the coffee cup from his hands without him realizing, because it was magically gone. “Alright, sleepyhead,” Blaine said eventually, his voice low and soothing. “I think you’ve entertained enough for the day. Time to get you back in bed.”
“Mmm,” Kurt murmured, because his bed did sound nice. Before he could find the strength to get up though, he felt Blaine’s arms around him, lifting him off the couch. “Blaine!” he exclaimed. “What are you doing? You can’t carry me.”
“Sure I can,” Blaine replied, and Kurt opened his eyes to see Blaine grinning at him. “I’m stronger than I look.”
“And I’m heavier than I look. I’m all dead weight …” Kurt trailed off then, because Blaine was actually carrying him to the bedroom and that was impressive, because Kurt had at least two inches on the guy. He remembered Blaine’s strong arms from Saturday night, the strong arms he felt under his shoulders and knees now, and huffed when Blaine finally laid him down on the right side of the bed. “Show off,” he muttered, but he couldn’t help giving him a small smile. Blaine was still grinning wildly and not denying Kurt’s accusation.
“Do you want me to tuck you in?” Blaine asked sweetly, and Kurt was torn between wanting to smack him and being extremely touched. “Do you want me to stay until you fall asleep?”
“No, I’m too hot from the coffee and the soup.” And the strong, warm arms that carried me here. “And that would be nice. Can you get the fan?” Kurt asked, motioning towards the ceiling.
Blaine pulled one cord to turn off the light and then the other to turn on the fan before removing his shoes and hopping on the bed next to Kurt. “You don’t have to stay all the way over there,” Kurt said, launching an arm across the bed at Blaine, it landing softly in between them on the mattress. “Unless you’re worried about getting sick.”
“I wasn’t sure if you were too hot to cuddle,” Blaine said, taking Kurt’s hand and closing the gap between them. Kurt knew he should probably move closer to Blaine as well, but was far too lazy, letting Blaine pull him until his head rested on Blaine’s chest and their sides were flush against each other.
“I’m never too hot for you,” Kurt mumbled against Blaine’s chest, and then realized how his words sounded. “Wait, that’s not what I meant.”
“You’re always too hot for me then?” Blaine teased, his fingers dancing in Kurt’s hair once more. “Or you’re always hot for me? I like that one better.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Kurt scoffed and he could feel Blaine’s laughter ruffle his hair.
“You must be feeling better if you’re able to throw insults my way.” Kurt was feeling a bit better than he had when Blaine arrived. He was still tired, almost tired enough to fall asleep. He felt so nice and cozy tucked under Blaine’s arm and was content to stay that way.
“Something like that.”
Kurt wasn’t sure when he actually fell asleep, but he awoke to Blaine solid and warm underneath him and his legs were wrapped around one of Blaine’s. He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d been dreaming about either since his brain was still plenty hazy from the cold medicine, but he realized a few moments after waking that his dick was pressed up against Blaine’s hip - and he was hard. He sat up quickly, startling Blaine, who tried to shush him and coax him back down to the bed. “Shhh, it’s okay, did you have a nightmare?”
Kurt tried not to laugh as Blaine rubbed soothingly at his back. A nightmare. Right. “No, I’m just … not used to waking up next to anyone.”
Yes, because that sounded so much better.
“What time is it?” he asked to change the subject, his throat still a little harsh from sleep and his voice coming out scratchy.
“A little after eight. You slept over an hour.” Kurt groaned, trying to focus on Blaine’s hand on his back and the rapid beating of his heart and trying to ignore anything else.
“Did you just … lie here with me?” Kurt asked once his heart rate had calmed a little. “How boring, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’m glad you got some more sleep.” Kurt refrained from pointing out he’d probably slept more than he usually did in a week over the past three days. Blaine’s hand stilled, his palm flat against the middle of Kurt’s back. “You okay? You seem awfully … tense.”
“Yeah, I just can’t seem to get comfy, I guess,” Kurt answered lamely, shifting a bit in an attempt to try to get comfortable - an attempt he knew would fail.
“Well, it’s your bed and you’re sick, we have to find a way to make you comfortable. Get back over here,” Blaine said, and he pulled Kurt closer, back to his original position. If he hadn’t felt Kurt’s erection before, he certainly had now. “Hey, stop that,” Blaine protested when Kurt stiffened in his arms even more, clucking his tongue at him. “It’s okay, just relax.” He ran his fingers through Kurt’s hair, trying to soothe him, even dropping a kiss on the top of his head.
Kurt tried with all his might to actually relax, but it was suddenly even hotter in the room than before, and Blaine was so close and Kurt’s dream kept coming back to him in flashes, snippets of him pounding into Blaine and his perfect, perfect ass in the very bed they were lying in, which certainly didn’t help his hard on situation.
“Kurt,” Blaine started, laying Kurt against the pillows and inching down so his face was flush with Kurt’s. “Kurt, you’re shivering a little, are you okay? Are you cold? I can turn off the fan.”
Kurt hadn’t even realized it, but he was trembling, just barely, so he wouldn’t give in and start rutting up against Blaine’s side like he wanted to. “I’m sorry, I’m a mess,” he replied with a shaky laugh. “I think - I probably just need to go back to sleep.”
“Oh, Kurt,” Blaine murmured, placing a soft kiss on Kurt’s temple. Kurt would have normally been embarrassed at the whine that came out of his mouth at the contact, but he was temporarily past the point of caring. As Blaine moved to kiss the other side of Kurt’s forehead, his arms wrapped around Kurt’s shoulders, his palms flat against Kurt’s back once more, just slight pressure that felt so comforting and good. “Kurt, it’s okay, you should … you should let me take care of you.” Blaine’s words were hesitant at first, as if he was worried about how Kurt would take them.
“But I’m sick,” Kurt whimpered feebly, pretty much just protesting for the sake of protesting. It seemed like the right thing to do, even though he wanted Blaine, possibly even more than he had on Saturday, and how messed up was that?
“I know you are, silly,” Blaine replied, his voice warm but not even a tiny bit patronizing. “Let me try to make you feel a little bit better.”
Kurt didn’t trust his voice, so he simply nodded and shut his eyes, hearing Blaine exhale sharply when he did. Suddenly, Blaine’s lips were gentle and soft against his and Kurt finally relaxed, melting against him. “That’s more like it,” Blaine whispered against his mouth, and Kurt laughed, wheezing slightly at the sudden change in his breathing.
Kurt lost track of how long they kissed, the slow drag of their lips against each other. Blaine never tried to deepen their kisses, and ignored any attempts on Kurt’s part to do so. “Blaine,” Kurt finally whispered in between, and Blaine hummed happily into the next one in response. “I’m sick, but I’m not dead.”
Instead of retorting back, Blaine simply parted his lips slightly, just enough for Kurt’s tongue to slip through. Blaine’s hands were still moving deftly over Kurt’s back, slowly up to his shoulders and then back down to his waist. Kurt found his fingers tugging at Blaine’s bow tie, which was already a little loose. Blaine grunted slightly when Kurt’s fingers pulled, kisses slightly off-center afterwards and Kurt filed that information away for later. “You should get comfortable too, you know.”
Kurt watched as Blaine’s fingers quickly worked at the buttons of his shirt, and then his belt and pants, getting up to drop them all on the floor along with his bow tie and socks, climbing back into bed only wearing a tight white undershirt and similarly tight dark boxer briefs. Kurt’s hands reached out to grip Blaine’s tiny waist, but he batted them away. “I wasn’t kidding about wanting to take care of you.”
Kurt relented, letting Blaine kiss down his neck and into the dip of his tee shirt. Blaine’s hands slid under his shirt, his palms cool even though it seemed as if he’d had his hands on Kurt in some way or fashion for hours. He nudged his knee against Kurt’s, sliding a leg between his, and oh, that was it, that was the pressure Kurt needed. Kurt made the same awful whining noise as he had when Blaine first kissed him, and Blaine chuckled and shushed him, running his hands higher under Kurt’s shirt, fingertips catching on his nipples. Kurt’s hips stuttered forward at the contact, his cock rutting up against Blaine’s thigh, his hands reaching out to Blaine’s biceps to steady himself.
“How are you so stunning,” Blaine whispered against the hollow just under Kurt’s ear, placing a kiss to punctuate his words, “when you’re not even feeling well?” Kurt normally would have rolled his eyes at Blaine’s words, but instead he sighed and leaned even further into his touch. He’d worked himself up so much before Blaine kissed him that he knew he wasn’t going to last long, but he didn’t expect to come with no warning mere seconds after Blaine slipped his hand between his threadbare sweatpants and his skin.
“Fuck.” The words were barely out of Kurt’s mouth before Blaine was covering it with his own, kissing him just as soft as before. “That was … unexpected,” Kurt added when they broke, turning his face into the pillow and groaning a little.
“It’s okay,” Blaine said with a laugh, his fingers scratching at the base of Kurt’s neck. “You’re sick, and it’s not like that wasn’t the intended outcome all along.”
“Next time will be more thrilling, I swear.” If there is a next time. Kurt turned slightly to meet Blaine’s eye again, and he was grinning wildly, like he was holding back a juicy secret. “What?” Blaine’s grin was contagious and Kurt couldn’t help smiling a bit back at him.
“Oh, nothing,” Blaine said slowly, and he was really having too much fun with this, wasn’t he? “Just earlier, while you were asleep - let’s just say I got the general idea of what was probably happening in your dreams.”
Kurt’s eyes grew wide and he resisted the urge to bury his head back in the pillows once more. He rarely talked in his sleep, but he didn’t doubt it being a crazy side effect of the medication Sugar sent him. No taking that back, might as well own it. “It’s all your fault for having such a nice ass. You are aware of that fact, right?” Kurt asked, raising his eyebrows at him.
“I think I’ve heard that one before,” Blaine replied, his grin turning wicked, before dropping his voice. “It’s always nice to have someone who appreciates it.”
Kurt turned back against the pillows to groan, because Blaine just couldn’t tease him like that. In his wallowing, he was not-so-pleasantly reminded that he had, in fact, come in his sweatpants and he should do something about that. “I should probably take another shower,” he said into the pillow.
“I should probably help you,” Blaine added quickly, gaping a bit when Kurt looked at him suspiciously. “What? You might get overheated again. I should be there just in case.”
Kurt clucked his tongue, but let Blaine follow him into the bathroom regardless. He started the shower and stared at his reflection in the mirror while the water heated. “God, I look awful,” he stated, poking a finger at his paler-than-usual skin. Thankfully, he was distracted by Blaine shedding his underclothes in the mirror behind him.
“Do not,” Blaine protested, and he came up behind Kurt, helping him out of his tee shirt and sticky sweatpants. Kurt watched in the mirror, oddly entranced by Blaine undressing him and dropping a kiss to his shoulder. “Come on,” Blaine said, tugging him away, “it must be warm by now?”
It was, and actually almost too hot since Blaine did have a point about overheating in Kurt’s weakened state. Kurt fiddled with the knobs to turn down the heat and stood under the spray as Blaine climbed in behind him. He let the water fall down his chest, breathing the steam in, before turning around and actually taking all of Blaine in for the first time. Blaine was naked - obviously - and still hard. He hadn’t come earlier. Kurt knew he should have remembered that, but it hadn’t actually occurred to him. “Someone should take care of that,” he said, nodding his head in the direction of Blaine’s cock and stepping out of the spray so he could switch places with Blaine and soap up.
“You’re sick,” Blaine mentioned for what seemed like the hundredth time that night before ducking his head under the spray to wet his hair.
“I said someone, I didn’t say me,” Kurt quipped back, and Blaine laughed loudly, shaking the water from his eyes, and god, he was really gorgeous, wasn’t he?
They switched places again - and really, this was why Kurt never got the appeal of joint showers. So much switching back and forth and taking twice as long to get clean. He supposed if he had a very naked Blaine to shower with, though, once in a while might be worth the effort.
He handed off the shampoo to Blaine as he rinsed off, watching as he raised his arms to work the shampoo through his hair with both hands. Yeah, Kurt could probably get used to showering with Blaine, if just for the view. They switched once more, Kurt leaning his back up against the cool tile while Blaine washed the shampoo out and grabbed the conditioner from the built-in shelf. His cock was still hard as ever, curving backwards towards his toned stomach, and Kurt could feel his own dick wanting so badly to do the same, even though he was positive there was no way he could come again.
“It’s not nice to stare,” Blaine teased before ducking back under the water to wash the conditioner out of his hair, but from his tone, Kurt didn’t think he really minded all that much.
“I’m sick,” he mimicked back to Blaine before continuing. “I was just thinking I’d feel really bad if I sent you all the way home on the L like that.”
Blaine turned the temperature down on the water some more before heading to the back of the shower where Kurt was still pressed up against the wall. “You sure you’re okay to stay in here a little longer?”
“Yeah,” Kurt answered, pretending in his head that his raspy voice was sexy and not revolting. Blaine didn’t waste any time in kissing him, more insistently than before (probably realizing quicker was better in this case), their wet lips sliding easily against each other. Kurt anchored himself on the arm that didn’t contain the hand wrapped around Blaine’s dick, and he nosed at Blaine’s chin a little, moving his head out of the way. “I want to see,” he whispered, and Blaine buried his head into the crook of Kurt’s neck, and groaned.
When Kurt was feeling steady enough, he snaked his hand around to Blaine’s ass, flattening his palm against the cheek and Blaine moaned again at the contact. Kurt tugged him closer until Blaine’s fist bumped his hip, hard enough to probably hurt the way Blaine’s hand was moving over his dick even more furiously than before. Blaine’s lips were against Kurt’s neck, placing messy, open mouthed kisses wherever he could, and Kurt ducked his head to catch Blaine’s lips with his own. He felt Blaine’s breaths quicken against his mouth, and Blaine’s hips snapping in time with the movements of his fist, and Blaine’s lips started hitting random body parts in attempts to kiss Kurt (his cheek, his jaw, his neck).
“Kurt,” Blaine breathed against his skin, his back arching and pushing his ass harder against Kurt’s hand. “Kurt, please.”
Kurt whispered, “Shh,” against Blaine’s forehead, his arm reaching further around Blaine’s back so he could trail a finger down the crack of Blaine’s ass, the water on their skin letting it glide easily, but still not enough. It was all Blaine needed to push him over the edge, though, muttering a constant stream of nonsense as he came all over Kurt’s stomach, the shower wall - Kurt could make out his own name, and oh god, and thank you.
Blaine’s breathing steadied, and he placed a soft kiss to Kurt’s cheek as he pushed off the wall away from him. Kurt’s legs wobbled a bit without the support of someone to lean against, but Blaine caught him, leading him slowly over to the now-cool shower spray to wash off again.
Once newly cleaned, Kurt grabbed them towels from the adjacent linen closet to dry off with as Blaine turned off the water. He headed out to his closet to find a new pair of pajamas, since he couldn’t in good conscience put the old ones back on, and toyed with the idea of asking Blaine to stay. He decided against it though, knowing he should probably get a good night’s sleep before returning to work, and called out to ask if Blaine wanted to borrow anything to head home in.
“No, I’m fine,” Blaine replied, and Kurt pulled on a fresh tee shirt and underwear before deciding he should really lie down. “You okay?” Blaine asked as he pulled on his pants, looking mildly concerned.
“Yeah, I just needed a quick rest. That was a more active shower than I anticipated,” he said with a giggle, and god, he was smitten and delirious and it was wonderful. Blaine sat down on the edge of the bed next to him and Kurt reached up to run his fingers through Blaine’s hair for once. “It’s curly. I like it,” Kurt said softly before adding, “I like your normal look too, though.”
Blaine smiled at his words and said, “I think you really just like me.”
Kurt closed his eyes and clasped his hand in Blaine’s. “I just might.”
Kurt woke up with a start when his alarm went off Thursday morning, trying to figure out if the previous day had just been an extremely trippy dream. When he sat up, he realized Blaine's socks were lying in the middle of his bedroom floor.
Apparently not.
What had he been thinking? What had Blaine been thinking?
He groaned loudly, no one around to hear him, and finally forced himself to get up and get ready for the day.
Brittany threw her arms around him at once when he walked through the double doors a few hours later. "Don't ever get sick again," she pleaded. "Santana and Sebastian argued the whole time, and I know Santana always says I'm biased, like, I'd be a terrible witness in anything involving her, but Sebastian was really, really awful."
Kurt patted at her back soothingly. Their fighting seemed to go in cycles, but it seemed as if at any given moment, two of the three of them were irrationally angry at each other, with the third party left to play mediator.
He tried not to burst into tears at the amount of paperwork piled on his desk when he entered his office, telling himself it was nothing a bit of elbow grease couldn't power through. Blaine peeked his head in at some point, slipping through his door and shutting it behind him. "Hi," he said, his voice nervous and a little wavering. "How are you feeling?"
"Better," Kurt answered, trying not to stare because Blaine had worn his glasses, making his eyes seem even larger than they usually did. "We - we should talk."
"Yeah," Blaine agreed, nodding vigorously, but making no movement to leave.
"Not now," Kurt intoned, returning his attention to the papers in his hand, and he could see Blaine nod again out of the corner of his eye.
"Right, right. See you at the morning meeting," he added before leaving Kurt to his work.
Kurt led the ten o'clock staff meeting, Santana and Sebastian still staring daggers at each other, and Kurt didn't have nearly enough energy to figure out what they were even fighting about. Rachel looked worse than he felt, and he noticed she wasn't quite meeting his eye. Hopefully her awkwardness would pass so he wouldn't have to talk to her as well.
Once the meeting adjourned, Kurt held Quinn and Blaine back. "I'm going to need to stay late tonight and tomorrow. It would help if I had someone to assist me, so one of you stay tonight and one tomorrow. Work it out between yourselves as to who's giving up their Friday night." Kurt waved his hand wearily, the gesture not having nearly as much pizazz as usual, but getting the point across all the same.
He worked straight through lunch in his office, Sugar sweet enough to bring him a sandwich, and at five-twenty, there was a knock on his door. Blaine. He figured Quinn would stay after; she would pull seniority so Blaine would have to stay Friday, but Blaine must have convinced her otherwise. The look on Blaine's face was just a touch terrified, and Kurt sighed heavily at the sight of him.
"Is everyone gone yet?" Kurt asked, and Blaine shook his head.
"Sugar is finishing up something with the time sheets, and Brittany was on her way out, but I'm not sure if she actually left. I think Sebastian is around too."
"Alright, well, sit down and stop looking like I'm about to kick your dog." Blaine looked concerned momentarily, as if he hadn't realized how downtrodden he'd looked. "Listen, I'm not mad, okay? Just ... confused."
Blaine relaxed slightly at Kurt's words. "I'm sorry."
Kurt wondered what exactly he was apologizing for (because there were so, so many options), but instead of asking, simply said, "You have nothing to be sorry for."
Blaine looked as if he still didn't quite believe him, but dropped the subject, helping Kurt carry their work to the conference room and getting to it. Sugar was the last to leave and she checked on them on her way out, putting in a dinner order for them before heading out the door, and finally, they were alone.
"Did you want to wait until the food arrives to talk?" Blaine asked, glancing up from the packet of papers in his hand to meet Kurt's eye for the first time that night.
"Can we wait until she gets out of the building at least?" Kurt sat his own packet of case documents on the table, pinching at the bridge of his nose.
"Are you sure you should be working late?" Blaine asked, his voice laced with concern. "You don't look very good."
Of course Kurt didn't look very good. He'd been staring at paperwork so long his eyes were swimming. He needed a nap and a proper meal and to not be worried about whatever he and Blaine were doing. "I'll be fine," he snapped, and Blaine didn't look like he believed a word Kurt said.
Blaine didn't pester him again until their order from Mario’s, the Italian place down the block, arrived. He went down to pick up their food and Kurt tried to clear off enough of the conference table for them to eat. "Okay, Kurt you're driving me crazy here."
"Just - what are we even thinking? I mean, my judgment was completely gone yesterday because I was sick and sort of out of it, but what - why?" Kurt hated that he was still so unwell, thinking so unclearly he couldn't even articulate how he felt. He was making no sense and he knew it.
Blaine's eyes grew wide and he stuttered for a moment. "I - I mean - I'm sorry if anything yesterday made you uncomfortable, I guess it got a little carried away, and I swear that wasn't my intent when I asked if I could come over. It's just you called me out on what happened on Sunday, and I have a tendency to overcompensate, and you were just so miserable -"
"Blaine, it's fine," Kurt finally said, cutting him off. "I just meant I might be even more confused than when I was when I asked about this weekend. I don't know what we're doing, basically. I'm your boss, Blaine."
"I know," Blaine whispered, and Kurt looked over at him. He was suddenly finding his spaghetti very interesting, twirling random strands around his fork, but never raising it to his mouth. "Sometimes I wish you weren't."
Kurt's heart dropped a little in his chest. "Not that I don't love working here," Blaine quickly blurted out. "This is the best job I've ever had, and the last thing I want to do is jeopardize that."
"Blaine, I want you to know, no matter what happens or happened, I would never -"
"I know you wouldn't," Blaine said firmly. "I trust you."
"That's a lot of trust for someone you've only known a few months." Blaine shrugged his shoulders, returning his attention back to his dinner, this time managing to eat a few bites.
"Where do we go from here?" Kurt finally asked, giving up on his lasagna even though half of it was left.
"I like you. You like me too, unless your medicine from yesterday made you out of it enough to lie."
Blaine reached for Kurt's hand across the wide conference table, and Kurt let him grip it, even though he had the urge to pull it away. "No, that was validly obtained information."
They locked eyes for a short moment, Blaine's warm and inviting, and Kurt could easily give up work for the rest of the night to gaze into them. Finally, Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand gently before pulling his away to continue eating. "I have no idea what I'm doing, Kurt. I don't have some crazy hidden agenda to sleep with my boss and get in his head, I just really like you."
"I like you too," Kurt said, "but I'm looking for something more than just sex. If you're not, that's fine, but I just wanted to be upfront." He hadn't been in a relationship in a while, since before the firm started, and Blaine's actions the day before made him forget how much he missed it. Someone to laugh with and cry with, someone to pick him up when he was down and lift him higher even when he wasn’t, someone for whom he could do the same. An equal. A partner. He’d been too career-oriented to date much over the past few years, and it was time to change that.
“I think you’re missing the point of what I said. I like you, not just the limited sexual encounters we’ve had.” Blaine was smirking, and Kurt attempted to roll his eyes and not grin, but his mouth betrayed him, a small smile playing on his lips. He hated feeling his cheeks heat up, how even at thirty he blushed just as much as he had in high school. “You should ask me out to dinner,” Blaine added, breaking Kurt’s internal dialogue.
“I should ask you out to dinner?” Kurt repeated, turning back towards Blaine and resting his chin on his hand.
“Sure,” Blaine replied, nodding vigorously and reaching for another garlic roll from the paper bag in between them. “I’ve heard some feedback that maybe I’m a little too aggressive, so the ball’s in your court, buddy.”
Cheeky bastard. “Stupid sports metaphors,” Kurt murmured under his breath. “I do appreciate yesterday, by the way,” he added. He twirled the straw wrapper from his iced tea in his fingers. “I … I have a hard time letting people take care of me.”
“I gathered that,” Blaine mused, cleaning up his empty food containers and placing them in the bags they came in. “So, there. I’ll refrain from using another sports metaphor, but no pressure. I know you have a ton to get caught up on and you’re still kind of sick. Take your time, I’ll be waiting.”
As Blaine gathered the trash to take down to the downstairs dumpster and not stink up the office, Kurt was still just as confused as to who Blaine actually was, but somehow it didn’t matter.
When Kurt arrived at the office Saturday afternoon, he found Santana already there, catching up on a bit of her own work. “Hummel, you don’t look half dead today! Congrats!” she deadpanned, but she was almost smiling.
“And you’re not biting my head off in Sebastian’s absence,” he quipped back, standing in her office doorway momentarily to chat. “What was all that about anyway?”
Santana shrugged, smiling smugly. “He made some offhanded tacky comment and I decided to push his buttons a little. That’s all you need to know.”
“So, the usual?” Kurt asked, smiling brightly at her, and she broke into laughter at that. “God, I can’t believe you two have gone eight years without killing each other. I swore after first year one of you wouldn’t graduate. And now here we are.”
“Well, I couldn’t let you and Sebastian go into practice alone together, even if I hadn’t been out of work. You’d just argue and fuck the whole time and get nothing done. So, now he argues with me, and then …” Santana trailed off, wiggling her eyebrows and Kurt’s jaw dropped to the floor. “What? You think I don’t know what happens on your little jet-setting rendezvous after you get a little liquor in you? Why do you think I keep insisting you two go?”
“Either way, it needs to stop,” Kurt snarled at her. “It was a horrible lapse in judgment, and I don’t want it happening again.”
“Fair enough,” she replied, sitting back in her desk chair and twirling her pencil between her fingers. “But speaking of horrible lapses in judgment … have you seen the way Blaine looks at you sometimes? I think he’s got some sickeningly adorable crush on you.”
Kurt’s throat went dry. Had Blaine’s attraction really been that obvious? Had Kurt really been that oblivious to it aside from the past few days? “Ooh, it looks like you haven’t. Very interesting. You should do something about that, Hummel. He’s compact and supple and have you seen his ass?”
Kurt rolled his eyes and turned on his heel before his cheeks flushed. “Some of us like to keep our love lives out of the office, Lopez!”
“I’d totes have your back!” she called as he walked briskly down the hall to his office.
Around seven, Kurt’s stomach began grumbling. Santana had left a few hours earlier, without a single mention more of Blaine, and Kurt figured he was almost caught up enough to leave for the night. He was contemplating running by the market for something for dinner - he’d had enough takeout for the week - when his phone buzzed with a text from Blaine.
are you at work on this fine Saturday evening? :)
Kurt shook his head ruefully before tossing his reading glasses on the desk and picking up his phone. I am. Was just about to get out of here.
A reply came almost instantly. Good. It’s getting too late to be at work. :) followed by I’m at Piece with Sugar and Rachel. Rachel’s trying to get Sugar to duet with her, but I think she’s going to be sorely disappointed when she hears Sugar actually sing.
Kurt laughed at the thought of Sugar’s excitement. Sugar loved to sing - but in no way was she actually good at it. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, trying to figure out if he should invite Blaine over. I’m about to stop by Dominick’s and pick up some food to make for dinner, he typed quickly before changing his mind. Are you hungry? You could join me if you don’t want to be stuck between two bickering women.
Kurt set the phone on his desk, trying not to watch for a response, turning his computer off and straightening the stacks of papers in front of him instead. Thankfully, his phone buzzed a few moments later. That sounds … perfect. I’d love to. Meet you in an hour?
He was out the door before he could even type a response.
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