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Chapter Text

Kurt buttoned his pea-coat high over his neatly wrapped scarf as he climbed the steps of the subway into the cold morning air of Manhattan. Most Saturday mornings you would find him still snuggled up beneath a pile of quilts and blankets. It takes something special to haul him out of bed before 9 on a weekend. That something special was a call from Desiree the previous night.

“Kurt, darling. Whatever plans you have for tomorrow morning, cancel them.”

Kurt met Desiree in his first year at Vogue.com. She was a final year design student on a college credit internship – passionate, creative and very driven. Kurt adored her instantly and they still met up regularly even though life had taken them in such different directions since their intern days. After graduation, she landed a ground level job at a small but upcoming fashion house, but she worked weekends at a recycled clothing boutique in Chelsea to help pay the bills.

Kurt knew the drill well. Living in New York was the dream, but it was an expensive one. He completed his BA at the New York Academy of Dramatic Arts and, though he’d had parts in a few small productions since his graduation, it was still the Spotlight Diner that put a roof over his head and food on the table. Desiree, however, was the one that put the clothes on Kurt’s back. Knowing his uncompromising, high-end tastes, she would always give him the heads up when something good came into the store.

 “Kurt! Another jilted lover has dropped his boyfriend’s wardrobe into the store. It’s back from laundering and I’ve just racked it up for tomorrow.” Desiree’s tone was serious and urgent, as it always was when the topic was fashion. To clinch the deal she teased him with more delicious details, “McQueen and Marc Jacobs are on the line…”

The “Revenge of The Ex” consignments were the best bargains and Kurt’s greatest weakness was McQueen. He didn’t even need to consider his options. “What time do you open, Des?”

“Nine. But if you bring me coffee, I can bend the rules and let you in when I unlock the store.”

“Deal. Latte?”

“Yes. And two sugars. Don’t forget the sugar. I’ll be there at quarter to.”

“Thanks for thinking of me, Des. Love you.”

“Love you more. See you tomorrow.”

Kurt walked fast to try to keep himself warm in the frosty air. Though he was desperate to get out of the cold, he bypassed two Starbucks, taking the longer but worthwhile deviation to their preferred coffee shop on Eighth instead. It was an independent store with full flavored, smooth coffee and Kurt could never pass up their choc chip cookies – from his extensive experience, they were the best in New York.

He ran into Desiree one block away from the boutique, a hot cup in each of his hands and a paper bag dangling between his fingers.

She spied the bag and smiled delightedly. “Is that what I think it is?”

Kurt smirked knowingly. “Fresh out the oven.”

“You’re my number one man, you know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, Des. But I’ll be more than happy to step aside when Mr. Tall Dark and Straight comes along.”

She kissed him on the cheek and took her cup from him, double checking the order written on the side before taking a sip. “So good!”

They walked side by side to the store silently, sipping on their coffee and warming their hands around their cups. Both were relieved when they were finally able to get inside away from the bitter cold.

“Help yourself, Kurt,” Desiree instructed as she began to set things up for opening. “There's a shirt that’s just your style on the rack there,” she directed, pointing to rear corner. “There are also at least six pairs of pants that are just to die for on the center rack, and then you probably want to take a look at the jackets down the front.”

Kurt made his way to the shirt rack, immediately spotting the shirt he assumed Des was speaking about.  He takes it down from the rack and holds it out on its hanger. “This one?” He smiles widely at her.

“Do I know your style, or what?!” she declares proudly. It’s current season Marc Jacobs, a vibrant floral with contrasting detail on the pocket. The buttons are a bright shade of blue that Kurt knows will set of his eyes beautifully.

He flicks through the other stock on the rack, but doesn’t see anything that he can’t live without. Moving on to the pants, he finds more than a few good buys. A pair of Italian cut pants in an amazing  deep indigo that will match the shirt perfectly, and a pair of boldly patterned Kenzo jeans that will both complement and breathe new life into some of the staple pieces of his wardrobe.

Desiree pushes past, her hand falling on his shoulder as she squeezes behind him. “Sorry honey, but your private shopping privileges are about to come to an end.” She pulls the door open and moves the “sale” rack out onto the sidewalk, then flips the sign in the window to “open” on her way back in.

Kurt is happy with his finds which have already reached his self imposed limit, even though the prices are very reasonable.  “I’ll just try these on before I commit.”

“Sure. You know where the fitting room is.” She smiles and looks to the back of the store. The curtained off corner is makeshift at best, but at least it offers a little privacy. Kurt is thrilled with the fit of every item, especially the Kenzo jeans. Any tighter and they’d probably be illegal, and yet they’re still very comfortable. It pays to buy quality. Even if it is second hand.

When Kurt steps back out into the store with his new clothes folded in a bundle across his arm, it’s still quiet with only one other customer browsing the racks.  He dropped the clothes on the counter in front of Desiree who grinned triumphantly at him. “See, your Des came through again, didn’t she?”

“Yes, Des. You’re a genius. Thank you.”

“Did you see the McQueen Jacket?”

“No!” Kurt exclaimed in horror. And that was the very reason he’d gotten out of bed at 7.30 in the first place.

“Centre rack, near the front.”

Kurt left Desiree to fold his purchases while he quickly went to assess the jacket. He found it instantly, recognizing the Stained Glass print, sadly in the grips of the other shopper. It was in the blazer style, cream and black with blue, red, and yellow highlights within the print.

Kurt lingered close by behind the man, watching him turn the jacket back and forth. He was inspecting it with far greater interest than Kurt thinks necessary, rubbing the fabric between his fingers and seemingly measuring it with the width of his palm. Finally he picked up the label attached to the left sleeve. His shoulders sank visibly and there was no mistaking the sigh as the man put it back on the rack.

Kurt’s insides were practically dancing and it took all he had not to snatch the jacket straight back out of the rack. He waited a polite fifteen or so seconds after the shopper had moved aside before lifting the hanger and peaking at the label inside – his size. The cut was stunning and he knew it would fit flawlessly, flattering every plane of his long lean frame. He looked at the price, only $150. Definitely not overpriced for McQueen, and too good to pass up, even if it did break the bank. Clearly the other guy didn’t know a good bargain when he saw one.

Kurt returned to Desiree, taking off his own coat and putting on the McQueen.  “What do you think?”

Desiree stepped back a little as she took him in. “Now that I see it on, I think it might be a little too much.” Kurt looked at himself in the mirror and Des stepped in behind him, assessing the situation with her designer’s eye. “It’s gorgeous on you, but it screams 2013.”

As much as Kurt loved the blazer he had to agree. “What if I switched out the sleeves, make them solid black, or even pick up the red or blue from the design?”

“That could work,” she replied, and with a little more pondering added, “Actually, that would look incredible.

“Then I’ll take it.”

She hugged him and then slipped the jacket off his shoulders “I’ll ring this up with the rest.”

 Kurt picked up his own jacket and put it back on, checking himself in the mirror to make sure his scarf was neatly placed inside and the coat was sitting perfectly. It startled him a little to see someone step up and stand beside him. The man who had been looking at the McQueen.

 “Excuse me, I don’t mean to be rude, but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.”

Kurt turned to face the man, ready to defend his right to the jacket, whether he was going to remove the sleeves, or pull it to pieces all together. (Lord forbid! Never!)  But as his eyes fell directly upon the man’s face for the first time, his mind went blank and all arguments were lost from his tongue. He was beautiful, with curly black hair and bright hazel eyes that were open and honest. He was short, but with a fit physique that was offset in a soft, conforming sweater. How could he have been so fixated on the jacket not to have noticed earlier? “Huh?” Kurt uttered dumbly, wanting to kick himself the second his own ears heard the pathetic noise. 

Thankfully the guy took Kurt’s quizzical sound as an invitation to continue. “Look, I don’t know if you’ve got anything in mind already, but if you’re going to deconstruct the jacket, I’d be willing to buy the leftover fabric.”

Kurt still wasn’t quite able to pull himself together to register what the cute guy was asking. “You what?”

“Sorry. Let me introduce myself,” and he fumbled to pull his wallet from its tightly held place in the rear pocket of his jeans. He opened it and produced a business card, holding it out for Kurt. “I’m Blaine Anderson, and I’m a quilter.”

Kurt took the card and held it between his fingers. Blaine Anderson. Fine Art Quilter. The pieces started to come together in his head. “You wanted to cut up a McQueen to make a quilt?” he gasped in horror.

“Well, not at $150 I didn’t,” Blaine replied defensively, “but if you’re going to discard the sleeves, I still have $40 left in the budget. I'll pay you for them.”

“To put in a quilt?” The concept was still a little perplexing to Kurt.

“That’s my plan. I know it’s a little unorthodox, but most of my quilts are.” He flips the card in Kurt’s hand so he can see the back.  “That’s one I did about a year ago.”

It’s an image of the Chrysler building, perfectly quilted in striking silver tones. Kurt could appreciate the effort that went into making a quilt, but Blaine’s work was something else. Something definitely worthy of McQueen. “How about I give you a call when I’m done? If I have fabric to spare, that is.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate it. I look forward to hearing from you.” His smile was big and genuine and it warmed Kurt to the core.

He smiled back and then watched, bewildered, as Blaine left the store before he could even formulate an intelligent reply. Admiring the rear view, he realized too late that he had totally forgotten to give Blaine his name.

He was brought back to the present by Desiree laughing manically. “Oh my God, Hummel. What the hell was that? I have never seen you so undone, and that includes the time you ran into Meryl Streep in the Vogue corridors.”

He slapped her shoulder playfully. “Shut up, you. We can’t be eloquent all the time.”

“Kurt, absolutely none of that was eloquent,” she continued laughing.

“God, that was embarrassing, wasn’t it?”

She looked at him, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Hey, you still got his number, it can’t all be bad. And if he turns out to be straight, send him my way, because that was a damn fine package.”

Kurt relaxed. “Wasn’t it, though?” he agreed with a laugh, and they got on with the business of settling Kurt’s purchases and demolishing the choc-chip cookies while they were still warm.

~*~

Blaine could not get out of the store quick enough. It might only have been his imagination, but he could almost feel the weight of the man’s stare on his back as he fled, and there was no mistaking the laughter that followed his departure, even through the closed door.  He’d botched that up from the moment he opened his mouth.

As if admitting to eavesdropping hadn’t been enough, he’d clearly struck a nerve with the mere suggestion of cutting up designer clothes for quilting. He was never going to see that jacket, or its owner, ever again. Strangely, it was the latter he was most disappointed about. Even though he’d been looking for the right fabric for weeks, something else suitable would turn up.  It always did.

That man though? He was one of a kind. Blaine wasn’t one to judge on first impressions alone, but he was perfect! Lithe and beautiful, and apparently he knew how to work his way around a sewing machine.

And all Blaine could do was babble about quilts.

Maybe someday he might actually be able to strike up a normal conversation and pull his love life out of the gutter.  Though clearly, Blaine thought to himself, today was not that day.

Chapter Text

Kurt scoured the textile stores of the Garment District for the rest of the morning until he found the perfect red to match the design of the jacket. With winter almost over and stores clearing their wool based stock, it was even on sale. By the end of the weekend he’d have an amazing Hummel-McQueen creation and even make a tidy profit – if Blaine delivered on his promise.

 Kurt was an expert at remodeling clothes. He’d been doing it since high school when a sewing machine was at the top of his Christmas list and “Santa” had delivered. Kurt could have had the sleeves cut off and new ones sewn in place in the space of an afternoon. On this project though, he took extra care unpicking the seams, doing his utmost to salvage every last square inch of fabric possible. He ironed the fabric flat to use as a template for the new sleeves, then when he was done, he folded it up and placed it with Blaine’s business card into a shopping bag on the bookshelf away from the rest of his creative mess.

He was still deep in the creative zone when Rachel’s loud return interrupted him, unaware that daylight had long ago faded or that the evening itself had all but slipped away.

“Hey Kurt, are there any leftovers?” she inquired, swinging her handbag onto the sofa as she passed on the way to the kitchen.

Kurt didn’t even look up, one eye closed to ensure a straight hem as he fed the fabric through the sewing machine to complete the final sleeve.  “Sorry, I got busy, Rach.”

“When did you last eat?”

“This morning. A choc chip cookie I had with Desiree.”

“Time to stop, Kurt! If you use that machine any more tonight, Mrs Brand downstairs will try to have us evicted,” Rachel warned.

“Don’t worry, I’ve already finished. I just have to pack all this away.”

Rachel let out a dramatic sigh and grabbed him by the hand, pulling him up and across the floor which was still littered with off-cuts of red fabric. “Come on, that can wait. This is a pizza intervention!”

At the simple suggestion of pizza, his stomach grumbled. “Just let me get my coat.” There weren’t many places to eat past 10pm, but the pizza place on the corner was open until one on the weekends. They’re on first name basis with Jerome, the burly pizza chef who not only accommodated Rachel’s dietary requirements, but took them as a challenge to concoct the most delightful gourmet combinations Kurt had ever tasted.

 When they were settled in a booth, waiting for their order, Rachel filled Kurt in on her day, or more specifically, the gossip from the other cast members of her show. “Jack handed in his notice tonight. He’s going to workshop his boyfriend’s musical in Hartford. Risky move if you ask me!”

“Rachel, have you even considered it might be more about being there for his boyfriend than a calculated career move?”  Kurt liked Jack and his boyfriend Rob. He wasn’t sure that Rob’s slasher musical was at all a good idea, but he really admired the way they supported one another.

“It’s still a stupid move though. But the important news is that it opens up a spot in the chorus, and of course I mentioned that my NYADA alum roommate was available to audition. It’s not what you know, Kurt, it’s who!”

“And the third Munchkin has so much clout when it comes to casting.” Kurt replied dryly. Sure, she was talented, but someone needed to keep Rachel grounded.  

Rachel feigned horror at Kurt’s insolence. “I might only be new to the chorus, but just you wait. I’ll be Elphaba before you know it.”

“And I’d do anything to just be a flying monkey at this stage.”

“I’ll help you with audition pieces on Monday.”

Kurt reached across the table and took Rachel’s hand, squeezing it in gratitude. “Thanks. I’d love that. I miss singing with you.”

“I do have to save my voice now, Kurt. Eight shows a week is taxing on the vocal chords.”

“Yeah, well that’s something I would like to find out for myself.”

She patted his hand reassuringly. “You will. Soon enough.”

When they got back to the apartment, the long day had finally caught up with them. Kurt looked at his sewing machine and the mess surrounding it, knowing that cleaning it now was better than facing it in the morning. The day was going to be busy enough as it was, with a resume to update and headshots to get printed.

 “You can have first shot at the bathroom,” Kurt offered, placing a goodnight kiss on Rachel’s cheek. “I still need to pack this up.”

As he set to work reclaiming the space they would need for breakfast, Kurt mused how one day he’d like an apartment where sewing and eating didn’t have to be mutually exclusive.

Chapter Text

Blaine spent the majority of the weekend locked away in his workroom on the second floor of his Brooklyn brownstone. He shaded the front elevation sketch of an old church, working out how to pay homage to the building’s unique character with fabric panels.

Blaine had been quilting since he took sewing to avoid shop. It gave him a lifeline when things were at their worst. The projects were detailed and time consuming and allowed him an escape from the bullying that went with being an out kid in Ohio. 

As a teenager, Blaine’s top priority had been to move to any state more accepting that the one where he had spent his childhood. His second was to find an undergrad program that he was interested in while still meeting the approval of his parents. Architecture played to all of Blaine’s strengths – his natural abilities in math and sciences, and his love of design. It also satisfied his father’s desire for at least one of his sons to begin a worthwhile career path at an Ivy League school. Little did Blaine or his father know that a degree in architectural design would lead him in a different direction altogether.

The more Blaine learned about the theories and principles behind sound design and construction, the more he questioned the very traditional methods he had always applied to his quilt making. He began to experiment with textiles and construction, breaking all the rules he’d previously followed. Some worked, some didn’t, but it helped to formulate his own style. His quilts became works of art – recreations of the elements of his life that inspired him. There was nothing that he couldn’t immortalize in fabric.

Blaine moved to New York City after his time at Cornell to take a junior architect position. It was there Blaine developed a passion for New York’s architectural heritage. He also discovered that a love for architecture did not necessarily make for a satisfying career in the field. After long and unfulfilled days at work, he sought solace in his sewing machine. The quilts mounted up. In a year he’d completed five.

But Blaine didn’t pine away, lonely in his apartment. He made the effort to go out and meet new people.  There was Steve from the accounting department at work who introduced him to Manhattan night life. Dan and Rob were his closest friends, a couple he met during his first Pride celebrations in the city. And then there was Meredith, the barista of the café downstairs from his old East Village apartment. She'd just latched on to him and would not let go.

There was no one special though.

Blaine had always been an oddball. Growing up, being gay was enough, but that had been the least of Blaine’s trouble since leaving Ohio. Blaine was a man who loved football and quilting. Boxing and bowties. Architecture and Katy Perry. Things that slotted so perfectly together in his own life, but seemed to be contradictory to everyone else. It was hard finding a man that could accept Blaine for all that he was. He refused to be defeated though, and he continued to put himself out there.

An active social life in lower Manhattan means that sooner or later one of the guys you bring back to your place will work for a gallery. And that’s how Blaine’s five quilts came to hang in a Chelsea Gallery, quickly selling for more money than he’d earned in his first year as an architect.

There was no question from then on, Blaine devoted himself to his art, aided by those first sales and a timely and sizable inheritance from his grandfather. Ironically, Blaine doubted he’d have any inheritance at all if his grandfather had known he was gay, or perusing life as an artist.

He quit his job, bought a Brooklyn Brownstone on Fort Greene Park and spent six months lovingly restoring it. He exhibited when inspiration struck, but most of his income was now commissioned pieces. His unique approach to quilting also led to paid presentations and workshops – an unexpected but welcome source of secondary income.

When he was asked to participate in the Brooklyn Art and Quilt Festival, he saw the chance to show the community how he had combined his two great loves to make a career he could really love. He had the perfect project to show off his talents; The Church of St Michael and St Edward.

The 100 year old church came to Blaine’s attention during his first winter in Fort Greene. The trees of Fort Greene Park were finally bare and they unveiled an architectural jewel that had been hidden on the other side – two towering spires standing proudly above the apartment buildings of their neighborhood. Blaine set out to explore, saddened when he discovered a church no longer in use and falling into disrepair. He imagined it would have been beautiful when it had first been built, but now it just looked over grown and lost. The Festival would give him the chance to bring the forgotten building to the attention of the community.

The striking spires of the church were reminiscent of a castle and modest stained glass windows featured in the body of the church nestled between them. Most of the windows were boarded up, and the few that still remained were significantly damaged. The jacket he’d seen in that morning would be perfect to recreate the windows of the church, if only it wasn't $150.

He knew it was an outside bet, but he hoped that the man might actually come through with the off-cuts. He relived the exchange in the boutique, torturing himself with the details and rehearsing in his mind how he could do it better. A good sense of style was very important to Blaine, and the beautiful stranger seemed to have it in bucket loads. They also had sewing in common, and in Blaine’s experience, that was a huge plus. They say you never get a second chance to make a good first impression - God, he hoped that was wrong.

Chapter Text

Kurt worked toward his audition though the week, choosing his piece with Rachel on Monday and adding an extra hour to his normal Tuesday session with his vocal coach. Comfortable that he had the song perfected,  Kurt spent Wednesday resting his voice while he stretched his limbs, practice his dance moves, and finished with a yoga class to leave him relaxed, loose and ready to perform the next day.

With all of the preparation he’d put in, the audition on Thursday morning when as perfectly as Kurt had hoped. He hit every note of the song and the emotion rang out clearly. He could see Rachel tearing up as she watched on from the rear of the theater. The dance exercises weren’t easy by any means, but he’d endured three years of Cassandra July’s classes, and the audition felt more like the Hokey Pokey by comparison

He knew he’d aced it!

~*~

On Monday, Blaine sat by his phone expectantly, thinking it didn’t take long to remove sleeves from a jacket, and the guy might be keen to get his forty dollars.

On Tuesday, Blaine figured that his beautiful stranger probably had better things to do than sew on the weekends, and he was likely to hear from him any time soon. On Wednesday he was making new excuses for the man - weekdays were full of everyday responsibilities, and progress would be slower.

Early Thursday afternoon, Blaine was having real doubts. With less than two days left until the Festival, he had to concede defeat. He needed to find fabric that would be a suitable fit for the stained glass windows, and that meant a trip to Manhattan’s Garment District. He headed to the subway, a man on a mission.

~*~

Kurt was on a high as he headed home from his audition. He was enjoying the moment, and though he needed to wait for official word from the director, Kurt was determined to revel in the minor victory of delivering the best damn audition he’d given. It felt like it was finally his turn!

Absorbed in his own private celebration, it was a miracle he even noticed the people around him, let alone actually recognize someone in the crowd. A handsome face with short dark curls that he’d only seen once before. And suddenly it struck him… in all of the audition excitement, he’d forgotten about the spare fabric.

Put it down to adrenalin, or maybe the magic of fate, but before he even had time to think Kurt was calling “Blaine!” across the crowd.

Blaine stopped in his tracks, spinning around to see where the voice had come from. His jaw dropped in surprise as he followed a raised waving hand down to its owner, and his eyes landed on a familiar face. His Beautiful Stranger.

Kurt pushed across the flow of pedestrian traffic to get to him. “Oh my god! I actually remembered your name!”

Blaine stood awkwardly, not quite sure what to say in return.

Kurt could not believe how badly he was handling himself again. What did this man do to him? “Gee… sorry. My head’s been all over the place this week.” He held out his hand in greeting and felt a warm rush as Blaine took it in a friendly handshake. “I’m gay.”

Blaine snapped his head up to meet Kurt’s eyes. “Pardon?!”

Shit! Could things get any worse? “Kurt! I’m Kurt!” His cheeks flushed red and he looked away in embarrassment.

“Well, Kurt, I’m so glad to see you again. And for future reference, I’m gay too.” Blaine smiled broadly at Kurt as he lifted his head again. Immediately it put Kurt at ease. “Also single,” he added with a wink. Blaine was fairly confident he was making a good go of the second impression thing.

“I’ll file that away, then.” Kurt grinned. “But first, I have to apologise, I totally forgot about the fabric.”

“That’s OK. I was just on my way to search for something else.”

“I have it ready for you, though. It’s been a big week and it just slipped my mind.” Kurt told Blaine all about his audition, and immediately Blaine could see why a few scraps of fabric had been forgotten in the scheme of things. “I’m free for the rest of the afternoon, though. I could get it for you now if you want.”

The delight on Blaine’s face was evident.  “That would be brilliant. I’m on a bit of a tight schedule with this project. Where do you live?”

“Brooklyn. Bushwick Ave?” Kurt answered. “The Williamsburg end.” It was important to add that extra detail. Most New Yorkers hated crossing borough lines as it was, and the word Bushwick came with its own set of prejudices thanks to too many incidences on the nightly news.  

Blaine didn’t seem perturbed at all. “That’s not too far out of my way.  I could come with you.”

“Only if you let me apologize with coffee.”

The smile broke even wider on Blaine’s face. “Sure. I’d love that.”

~*~

When they got back to Kurt’s apartment, Kurt paused and turned to Blaine before opening the door to the loft. “Don’t expect much. Rachel and I might be living the dream, but so far it doesn’t pay as well as we’d hoped.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, my brother is an actor, and I know how hard it is.”

“Your brother’s an actor?”

“Yeah. He lives in LA. He makes it sound glorious, but I’m pretty sure he’s living above someone’s garage in the outer suburbs. He’s the reason I steered clear of the arts when I went to college.”

“Oh really? And how is that working out for you Mr. Quilt Artist?”

Blaine laughed. “You’ve got me there. But I think it takes as much luck as talent to make it as an artist of any kind.”

“Well, I’m hoping that today might just be my lucky day.” Kurt slid the door open and walked into the loft.

 Blaine stood in the doorway, and stared admiringly at the space it revealed. “You seem to be doing OK for a couple of broke actors, if you ask me.”

“We’ve been here since college. We take good care of the place and pay on time, so our land lady has kept the rent fairly low.”

He gave the room an appraising once over, really admiring what he saw “Well, you’ve got a great eclectic vibe going on here.”

Kurt made his way across the loft to the kitchen, motioning to the living room and inviting Blaine to take a seat.  “I won’t be long with the coffee. How do you have it?”

“Black. Strong. Two sugars,” Blaine answered as he sank into the long sofa. Behind him he could hear Kurt filling the kettle and putting it on to boil.

“If you look on that book case behind you, you’ll see a Macy’s bag. That’s yours.” Blaine immediately found the carefully wrapped and folded fabric scraps exactly where Kurt had left them on Saturday night. “It’s all pressed and ready to go. I hope it’s enough,” Kurt called from the next room.

Blaine took one of the sleeve pieces out of the bag and inspected it. The fabric was even lovelier than he remembered, and looked so much larger ironed out flat. “This is perfect. Thank you.”

“It’s no problem.” Kurt claimed, though Blaine could see he’d gone to considerable trouble to retrieve the maximum fabric possible. A tray was set down on the coffee table, laden with two mugs of steaming coffee and a plate of homemade cookies. “Those are peanut butter and chocolate chip. I was a ball of nerves last night because of the audition, and I’m a stress baker. I’ve also got raspberry and white chocolate too, if you’d prefer.”

Blaine already had one of the peanut butter cookies in his mouth and elicited an almost sinful groan of appreciation. “Oh god. These are delicious.”

“Good. Because Rachel would kill me if I let you eat the raspberry ones. They’re her favorite.”

Though the conversation flowed all too easily, Blaine was conscious of the fact that he still had so much to prepare for the Art and Quilt Festival. Also, as much as he could have stayed all afternoon with Kurt, he didn’t want to outstay his welcome.  “Thanks again, Kurt. For the fabric. For the cookies. But mostly for the great company.”

“We’ll have to do this again,” Kurt smiled. “I’ll give you a call. Though, hopefully I’ll be really busy with rehearsals soon.” He realized too late that his wording might be construed wrongly, but Blaine smiled all the same, so Kurt assumed he understood.

“That would be great,” Blaine replied warmly, keeping himself in check so as not to come across over-eager. He didn’t want to scare off the most wonderful man in all of New York City. 

~*~

Blaine hadn’t even gotten home before he realized he’d forgotten to pay Kurt the money he’d promised him. He also realized that he still didn’t know Kurt’s full name, or his phone number. There was no way he could get in touch again without fronting up at his door. “Good one, Blaine,” he chastised himself.  But at least Kurt had his number, and he’d promised to call.

Or had he?

Blaine recalled Kurt’s words and began dissection and analysis of every phrase. Surely Kurt meant that he hoped to get the job, not that he hoped to be too busy to call Blaine. Things had been good between them… right? He wasn’t the only one who felt the connection?

 As was Blaine’s practice, he threw himself into his quilting to silence the doubts in his head. Kurt would call. He had to!

Blaine didn’t see his own business card flutter to the ground as he took the McQueen fabric out of its bag and began to mark out the pieces for the church windows.

Chapter Text

“Rachel, have you seen my navy pea coat?” Kurt yelled across the apartment, not that it was necessary, a whisper could be heard across the small expanse.

“It’s hanging by the door, beneath my pink jacket.”

Rachel might have been messy, but Kurt loved that she still knew where everything was. It was as much a gift as her voice.

He grabbed the coat down from the rack and rummaged through the pockets, coming up empty handed and disappointed. He had been searching the apartment frantically for almost an hour and still couldn’t find Blaine’s business card. The pea coat had been his last resort.

“Shit!”

Rachel came out from behind her curtained room. “What’s gotten into you this morning, Kurt?”

Kurt was blindly checking the pocket of every coat on the rack. “It’s that guy I told you about. I’ve lost his number.” It had been two days, and Kurt thought that if he waited any longer, Blaine might slip through his fingers. He was desperate to find that card.

Rachel reached over him and grabbed her own coat down from the rack. “Google, Kurt. It’s your best friend in times such as these.”

He looked up at her in relief. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you don’t seem to be able to think straight where this boy is concerned. Don’t worry, Kurt, I think it will all work out perfectly.” She patted him on the shoulder, and Kurt couldn’t decide if she was being motherly or condescending. Either way, it irked him.

“That’s easy for you to say, you didn’t throw his business card away!” he called after her as she walked down the stairs. She disappeared out of sight, he pulled the door shut and went to get his laptop.

It didn’t take long to find Blaine at all. He had an impressive website that showcased his work. There was mention of a home studio in Brooklyn, but no address or telephone number. Kurt understood the need for privacy, but it was frustrating. The only avenue open to him was to submit an inquiry through the online contact form. Kurt was about to do just that when he saw the Brooklyn Art and Quilt Festival banner in the side bar. One click and suddenly he had something productive to do with his Saturday.

~*~

When Kurt found Blaine, his workshop had all but ended and he was in conversation with a small group of women who had lingered to ask questions. “Shading and placement is the key here,” he talked animatedly, his arms moving across the partially completed quilt in front of them as he explained the construction. As Kurt stepped closer, he could see a pale grey quilt. His jacket pieces were already sewn in place, ready to be framed by the darker gray and black swatches roughly formed the structure of a beautiful old church.

“Tomorrow’s workshop is on image conversion. Feel free to bring your own photos if you want some pointers.” The women thanked him for his time and dispersed one by one.

Kurt stepped up behind Blaine who was still unaware of his presence. “Impressive recycling of an iconic McQueen design, Mr. Anderson.”

Blaine turned in surprise. “Kurt! I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” He immediately noticed Kurt was wearing his remodeled jacket. “And may I return the compliment? Alexander would be very proud.” Kurt lifted his arms and turned a little on the spot to show off his work. Blaine’s gaze drifted appreciatively beyond the jacket and to the tight black jeans and slim fitting shirt Kurt wore beneath.

“I hope this is OK, coming here? I saw a window of opportunity and I grabbed it,” Kurt half explained, half apologized. “You see, I start that job on Monday, and I kind of lost your number.” He knew he was babbling, but he had to explain himself.

“Well that just makes us even, because I forgot to even ask for yours.” Blaine smiled and there was a distinctly flirtatious gleam in his eye.

“Honestly, when I realized I'd lost your card, I was a little worried I’d never see you again.”

“Yeah?  That’s what I thought when I first met you. I was such an idiot, I don’t think I would have called me.”

“No! Not at all. I wish quilters interrupted my shopping every day,” Kurt laughed softly, then coyly added, “especially if they’re as cute as you.” The flutter of his eyelashes was totally involuntarily.

 Blaine grinned, clearly thrilled with the meaning of Kurt’s honest confession. “They’re not. Believe me!” He laughed as he folded he quilt on the table, carefully preserving the layout of the pieces before rolling it into a neat bundle that fitted nicely beneath his arm. Then he reached out and boldly took Kurt’s hand. Kurt seemed a little startled but Blaine squeezed reassuringly. “My house is just across the park.  Come on,” he explained simply. “I know a short cut.”

~*~

There was no denying Blaine’s home was impressive. It was beautiful inside and out, clearly restored to the glory of yesteryear with loving hands and a very deep pockets. As Blaine gave Kurt the tour, they were both picturing themselves sharing the space together. Blaine making pancakes for breakfast in the kitchen, cold nights curled up on the sofa wrapped in one another’s arms, Kurt’s sewing machine set up alongside Blaine’s in the workroom. A workroom that was as far as possible from the kitchen table!

And that’s exactly how it would be. As Rachel had predicted, everything did work out perfectly. Kurt’s McQueen jacket ended up on Blaine’s bedroom floor that night, and had a permanent home in the closet three months later. The beautifully completed church quilt was presented to Kurt as a housewarming gift. “It was half yours anyway. I never did pay you for those sleeves.”

“I think you’ve paid me back a thousand times over,” Kurt replied, pulling Blaine to him and ending the discussion with a possessive kiss. It was early summer and quite warm, but they opened the windows wide that night just so they could snuggle beneath the quilt, whispering wishes of love and forever.