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Kurt looked forward to the summer for pretty much the entire spring semester, and by this point he and Blaine had worked out something of a schedule for their times away from school. NYU's on a semester calendar so he always gets home first, and he's usually glad to have some time settling in with his family before Hurricane Blaine (his dad's coinage, not his own, although he has to admit there's something to it - if nothing else, his clothes certainly get tossed around a lot when Blaine's there, and there may have been one or two unfortunate furniture incidents) blows in when Northwestern finally finishes up their spring quarter.
Kurt had been trying to relax into this summer before their junior year of college, because he knew just how likely it was that one or both of them would be spending next summer, their last summer of college oh my god how is that possible, in an internship that would keep them away from Ohio. He had no doubts that they would figure it out - all of his doubts about whether and how they'll stay together had been burned out of him the previous summer, when they'd been trying so hard to get over each other but had crashed back together and then stuck - but that didn't mean he relished the idea. This was probably going to be their last carefree summer together, and he was determined to make the most of it.
So he stayed up late and slept in and, in between putting in a few afternoon shifts at his dad's shop and helping Carole rearrange their bedroom furniture again, he'd spent some time scouting out things they might like to do around their hometowns. They'd spent a lot of time together in Ohio, obviously, but most of it was as high school kids, and Kurt felt a little like he was in a time warp every time they walk into a Lima Bean. He'd been living in New York for two years, and he'd become accustomed to clubs and bars and restaurants open well past the 10 pm that's customary for the sleepier Midwest. He'd been worried that it would be a bit tricky, because clubs in Columbus are a little more careful about IDs and liquor laws than he's become used to, but one night when he was shopping in Columbus he stopped in to an independent record store and grabbed a copy of The Other Paper on the way out.
Over his nonfat mocha (iced, because it's already ridiculously hot) he found an ad for Axis, a gay club just off the OSU campus that loudly advertised their 18+ door policy, and that would work just fine for them. He wanted to grind against his boyfriend in public, put his hands and his mouth on him and let other people stare in envy; he wanted to drag Blaine into a backroom or a toilet and shove him against a wall and blow him with the sounds of other men heavy and dark around him. He'd only been in a backroom once, back in New York, and to be honest it kind of scared the shit out of him - it was the kind of place where it felt like anything could happen, and without his partner-in-crime-and-everything-else there, he had felt a bit untethered. But he'd fantasized about it since, that sense that all the restraint was let go, that sex was something to be shared and gloried and wallowed around in, and he wanted so badly to try it. To try it with Blaine. Kurt was, by far, the more sexually adventurous of the two of them but once Blaine talked himself around to giving something a try, he was always fucking amazing at it, as open and willing and hot for it as Kurt could hope for. He loved it.
He flipped back to the ad and scrutinized the dates - the club seemed to have a lot of drag nights and, while that was fine, that wasn't really what he was looking for. He wanted something a little darker, a little less spectator-y and a little hotter. Tonight, actually, seemed to be just a simple "House Night", and that might be just the thing. It was already 10, and although that was late for his family, Kurt had told them he'd be out late and he felt like the night was just getting started - he'd acclimated to a much later schedule while he was at school, and now that he'd found this Starbucks that stays open until midnight (and see, things like this are why he remains convinced that college campuses and the areas around them are the only acceptable outposts of civilization in the Midwest - well, excepting Chicago, but that doesn't really count), he thought it might be worth just sitting there and drinking his coffee until he could hit the club and check it out.
He pulled out his phone and called Blaine. "Hey, babe, how's the studying going?" he asked.
"Ugh, don't ask. I hate this. I have so much to do and Mallory just flew through here in a state of panic, yelling at me about how stupid I am to consider law school and three extra years of this, and now I'm thinking she might be right. Fucking finals," he sighed. "Anyway. I'm fine, how are you?" He paused, and then said, "Wait, it's loud there - where are you?"
Kurt winced. "I'm not sure I should tell you. Um, I'm at a Starbucks. In Columbus."
Blaine groaned. "Oh, god, coffee sounds so good right now, and Dustin dropped the pot last week and we haven't had time to get a new one. I wish I could go out and get a cup. Or, god, what if you could bring it to me? Just show up at my door like a coffee fairy." He sounded so wistful that Kurt had to smile.
"Which would you be happier about, me or the coffee?" he teased.
"Tough choice. I think the combination might be my favorite part," Blaine said, and Kurt could hear the smile in his voice and was glad that his boyfriend could let go of the tension just a little, just for a minute.
"Sounds pretty perfect to me, too. Soon!" he chirped, and he knew it had to be transparent how much he was trying, because they both sighed down the phone, just a little. "Listen, I don't want to keep you, but I wanted to let you know that I think I'm going to a club tonight, by myself, and I wanted to tell you about it beforehand just...."
"Just so I don't find out about it later and freak out?" Blaine asked, his voice wry.
"Well, yeah, something like that."
Jealousy was something they'd both had to manage - they're not blind, obviously, and they're miles apart most of the time. Kurt had tried to hint about opening up the relationship a time or two, just for sex, but Blaine was so opposed to it that he'd let it drop without even really bringing it up all the way. It was hard, yes, to be so alone all the time - but the time when they were together was so amazing, and although Kurt sometimes wondered if he was missing something, he wasn't so sure how he'd feel knowing Blaine was fucking somebody else, either. Blaine was more of a homebody, preferring to stay in with friends or maybe just go out for a meal or a show or something, but Kurt really liked going clubbing every once in a while, and last summer when they'd gotten back together they'd had to hammer out how their particular exclusivity was going to work.
The agreement, then, was that dancing was fine, grinding and hands over clothes while dancing were fine, but mouths were off limits and getting anybody else off, ever, was way out of line. For the most part, this worked fine for Kurt - sometimes he would come home so hot from the music and rubbing up against some guy's body that the first thing he did was call Blaine so he could get himself off to the sound of his boyfriend's voice. It wasn't a perfect arrangement, and Kurt had had a few very uncomfortable rides in a taxi with a very hard dick, but it was worth it. They'd both learned that it worked better if they were just upfront about what was happening, because it kept the worried imagining under control.
Kurt continued, "It's just the first time I've ever been to a club by myself, and I know how that might look, but I really just sort of wanted to check it out because I was thinking about going with you sometime over the next few weeks. I know you don't really care for clubbing, though, and if I take you somewhere crappy you'll never like it."
"This sucks," Blaine said.
"I know it does, baby," and Kurt knew he was cooing a little bit, but Blaine wasn't wrong - this DID suck.
"I'm stuck here at school, studying for these fucking finals, and you just called to tell me you're headed to a club. God, those guys are going to be all over you when you walk in the door." Blaine wasn't kidding - he sounded pissed.
Kurt was quiet for a minute. "So... are you saying you don't want me to go?"
Blaine sighed down the phone again and when he spoke the frustration and resentment were clear in his voice. "No, no, it's okay. I trust you. I'm just jealous as hell. I don't want to be here right now!"
"How many more do you have left?" Kurt asked, happy to try to change the subject.
"Just two, but I also have to finish this poli sci paper, and I think it's going to be my law school writing sample because the topic is right so it has to be good. It's fine, I'll be done in plenty of time, and then I'm home. Just another week. I can do this." Blaine was so good at giving himself these pep talks that sometimes Kurt called him just so he could get one of his very own.
"I'm really proud of you, you know," Kurt offered. "You're doing so well. And thank you for not making a big deal out of this. It's... it's not about that, you know? I've been thinking about you so much. Last summer I came home from school and all I could think about was that I wouldn't be spending it with you. I mean, obviously, we know how that turned out -" Kurt smiled "- but this, this is a whole lot better."
"It is," Blaine said, and Kurt could hear the smile in his voice. "Listen, I better get back to this before I get totally derailed. I love you, Kurt - have a great time tonight and, you know, call me if you need to." Somewhere during that last sentence, the smile had transformed into a smirk.
Kurt laughed. "Somehow I doubt the talent pool will be quite what I'm used to, but I'll keep your offer in mind."
Blaine tutted in mock offense. "Are you saying midwestern boys aren't hot?"
He gasped in return. "With this kind of evidence to the contrary? Never! Get some work done, babe - love you!"
"Love you too," and the call was over.
-----
An hour later, Kurt was walking into Axis. He'd stayed at Starbucks until 11, grabbing another mocha with an extra shot since he was going to be out late, and he'd taken just a few minutes in the men's room with his bag to gel his hair back a little. He'd always had the habit of dressing well whenever he went out, and that was paying off for him now - he hadn't really worried about passing muster on the dress code, and it was obvious that he was fine from the haste with which they waved him in.
The club was starting to fill up, and there was the usual crush at the bar. The crowd was pretty preppy and clean-cut - lots of pretty college boys, and Kurt realized that he'd been terribly wrong in casting aspersions on his midwestern brethren, because there really was something to the cornfed looks filling up the room. He quickly navigated his way through the bar crowd (New York "manners" were good for something) and, once he'd secured his diet Coke, took up a spot just off the dance floor. He wanted to look first.
The music was only okay and the dancing was occasionally a wreck, it was true, but there were a few boys who were definitely worth looking at as they moved. Kurt didn't really tend toward a type - honestly, he thought most men had at least something to offer in the looks department - but he had to admit that he'd grown incredibly fond of dark-haired men in the last few years. Usually when he was out, though, he preferred to dance with somebody who didn't remind him of Blaine at all - it was less creepy that way, he thought, and less like he was thinking of these men as a substitute for his boyfriend. As his eyes scanned the growing crowd of bodies on the dance floor, he noticed somebody staring at him. Tousled reddish-blond hair, a strong, square jawline and cheekbones to die for, and even in the dim light what looked like very pretty blue eyes - he looked like... well, he looked like a model, but he also looked vaguely familiar. Surely not, Kurt thought to himself, a dark thrill beginning in his chest as he smiled at the boy - the boy who smiled back and started walking over.
By the time he reached him, Kurt had convinced himself that he had to be mistaken, that this boy was pretty in the same way he remembered but it couldn't possibly be him. The redhead stopped in front of him and put a hand on his elbow and leaned closer to say over the thump of the music, "Hi, I'm Jeremiah. Why aren't you dancing?"
And that dark thrill from before leapt into his throat and threatened to shout out a "ha, bitch!" before he swallowed it down and said, "I'm Kurt. I just got here; I was just... checking it out."
Jeremiah gave him a dark smile, leaning in to say, "I'm glad I caught you then, Kurt. Come dance with me," before sliding his hand down to take Kurt's and pull him toward the dance floor. Kurt barely had time to put his glass on a table before they were surrounded by bodies pressed close and sweaty.
Kurt's mind was reeling - he'd just come in here to check it out for a sweaty rendezvous with Blaine, and now Blaine's silly high school crush (the one Kurt had spent almost a year teasing him about) was coming on to him, and coming on strong, and pulling him onto the dance floor, and holy shit, things this good never happened in real life! - when Jeremiah's hands slid down to his hips to pull them together so he could start moving against Kurt. Kurt was suddenly glad he'd spent the time in clubs that he had, because his movements were automatic but he could tell from the look in Jeremiah's eyes that they were good, that his hips were doing what they needed to be doing to keep that boy right there, pressed up against him.
They danced through several songs, Jeremiah turning him around to press close along his back and grind into his ass. Kurt would be lying if he said he didn't see the appeal - he was pretty, and moving like this he was sexy in a way that he certainly hadn't been while folding sweaters produced for a mass market. When he turned back around in Jeremiah's arms he looked him full in the face, remembering in an instant the heartbreak of that day and everything that it had turned into. For a while during their first semester of college he'd dealt with the fresh hell of a long distance relationship by torturing himself with thoughts of Blaine in this man's arms - and look where they all were now.
After about 20 minutes, Jeremiah leaned down to say hot against his ear, "Jesus Christ, you're fucking hot. I like the way you move. There's a backroom here - wanna go?" Kurt had just a moment to think, "backroom! good to know!" before Jeremiah finished with a sloppy kiss to Kurt's ear, and that crossed his line - no mouths.
"I'm sorry, I can't - my boyfriend wouldn't appreciate it."
Jeremiah made a noise of disapproval. "Boyfriend, huh? That's too bad. What's he like?"
And this was it - this was how Kurt could make it all worth it. "Blaine? God, he's wonderful. Dark hair, strong hands, sweet and loyal heart, and an incredible singing voice - god, when he sings to me, I just can't stand it."
Jeremiah had pulled back so that Kurt almost had to shout, and Kurt could see realization in his eyes, the memories coming back from where they must have lain dormant for years now. There was NO WAY he was stopping now.
"And god, he's fucking amazing in bed - his mouth is generous, his ass is beautiful, his cock is absolutely fantastic, and he'll try anything - and with great enthusiasm. He's... he's perfect, and I'm so lucky to have him - I can't believe he's all mine, and that I get to keep him."
They'd stopped dancing at all by now, standing still on the floor and jostled on all sides, and the look on Jeremiah's face was so delicious that Kurt wanted to take a picture on his phone and send it directly to Blaine. Kurt felt maybe a little bit bad, but he was so delighted to get his claim over, even now, years after it mattered, that he didn't really care. "So, yeah, I'm sorry - I'm sorry if I led you on, but he's mine, and I'm sure as hell his."
Jeremiah pulled a face and Kurt felt just a little bit worse for him, so he leaned up and kissed him on the cheek and whispered, "Sorry. Bye," as he turned and walked off the floor and straight out of the club.
He paused on the sidewalk, the breeze cooling the back of his neck where he'd gotten a bit sweaty, and he laughed. He pulled out his phone and texted as he walked quickly to the Navigator: "I'm about to call you. You won't BELIEVE who I just saw. PS - the club? is perfect."