One Step Closer (Klaine)

Kurt Hummel is working for a successful designer in New York City. One day he drops off some clothes and loses his most prized possession (besides his Marc Jacobs canvas bag). His phone. Throw in a reluctant musician and his well-meaning but misguided best friend and he's in for quite an experience.


Enjoy! :)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

"Alright so did you get the outfits dropped off?" Kurt Hummel's boss demands to know. Kurt holds the cellphone out at arm's length and can still hear Tiffany Hart's slightly nasally voice. He sighs and presses it back up to his ear, preparing to lie.
"Yes Tif, I did. I'm on my way back to the office now."
"Hurry." The phone beeps as Tiffany disconnects the call and Kurt lets out a small groan of frustration before sticking it back in his pocket. He's supposed to be on his way back from the performing arts center, not on his way there. But what is he supposed to do? This is New York. It's busy, it's crowded... And no one is going to pay attention to a skinny little fashionista with a high pitched voice. Even if that skinny man is Kurt Hummel, fashion designer. Of course these people probably don't have any idea who he is. They all look like filthy tourists to him.
He turns around the block and sighs in relief as his destination comes into view. It's a smaller building than some of the other's he's been to, more personal and private looking. He checks his pockets to make sure that his phone hasn't been snatched away and smiles at the reassuring feel of the smooth cover. His whole life is on that thing. Dates, texts, important emails and contact information.
Plus if he lost it how would Tif get ahold of him? Sure he didn't always want to hear her voice but he'd actually miss her quite a lot if he never heard her ordering him around again. Besides it'd just make her mad if she had no way to contact him.
He stops in front of the building and reads the sign, just to be sure he has the right place. L'espressione, "The Expression". An interesting name for a theatre. He liked it. All the outifts they ordered were in his hands... right? Kurt thumbed through the hangers to be sure and nodded in confirmation. Now he just needs to deliver these to the right person and then sprint back to the office.
Just an oridinary day in the life of Kurt Hummel.


Blaine Anderson goes through the motions once more, his fingers gliding over the keys. He knew this piece by heart. At least he should, he'd practiced it relentlessly for the past few weeks along with all the other selections he'd be performing tonight at L'espressione during their opening night of "White Christmas".
"I'm... dreamin'... of a white... Christmas," he sings, shaking his head in a slightly comical way to get his hair out of his eyes. It's grown too long. Again.
He hears someone open the door but ignores it, moving on to the next line. It's probably just the director or something. He can wait. But whoever it is must be impatient because pretty soon they're clearing their throat as loudly as possible. Blaine sighs and stops playing before looking up and meeting the eyes of a tall, irritated looking man. "Uh, can I help you?" he asks, taking in the sight of the guy standing in front of him, a ton of outfits dangling from his hands. It takes a moment but then something in Blaine's mind clicks. "Oh you're the designer guy. Mr. Hummel right?" He hops off of the piano bench and off of the stage, right in front of the man.
He nods. "Yes, that's me. I was wondering where your manager is, or whoever's in charge. I need to get rid of these as fast as possible."
Blaine smiles and takes a few of the shirts out of the man's hands. "Well here, let me help you find him so you can get going then. Or I can just take them to him myself if you really need to go," he offers, motioning with his empty hand that he can take the rest.
Mr. Hummel hesitates before handing the remaining outfits over. "Thank you so much. I'm sorry to leave you with them but I've got to rush. They were expecting me back at the office twenty minutes ago."
Blaine smiles. "No problem. Good luck."
The other man grins back and waves as he turns to leave. "Thanks again."


Where is it?
Kurt turns his pockets inside out once more, knowing it's useless. Maybe he set it on the desk? It is a bit messy in some of the drawers. That's probably it...
He lost his phone. Kurt shakes his head and sits at his desk with a groan. He feels naked without it. Lost really. That greasy piano-player probably snatched it off of him... Maybe he could slip out again to check for it? Kurt's eyes wander back to the designs sitting on his desk. Later. His phone will just have to wait.


Blaine finishes his portion of helping clean up after the show and then shoulders his bag. He knows he should be grateful for the job but holiday performances aren't really his thing. Especially since it was only a few days after Thanksgiving. Why are people so eager to forget about one good thing and rush to find the next? Why wasn't the first enough?
Holidays and overly cheesey musicals way way off Broadway. Ugh. What has his life come to? Even though this gig paid better he couldn't wait for tomorrow when he'd be back in the bar scene. That was one good thing about this job, it was only an every-other day thing for two weeks. Enough to get some extra money but still be able to enjoy performing at his usual venues, which he preferred. The crowds were much more... exhuberant. But maybe that was just from the alcohol in their system? Well whatever it was, those nights will be much better than the rest of the ones he has to endure here.
He almost misses the small little light that flashes. Blaine blinks, looking around. What was that? Then he spots it, a cell phone lighting up from a new text message. Snatching it up he reads the name of the person sending the text. Rachel. Okay. That doesn't tell him anything about who the owner might be. And it's locked. How is he supposed to contact this person?
Blaine shrugs and pockets it. The lost and found guys lose more than the people they try to help out. If anyone calls their phone after realizing it's lost there's a much better chance that he'll answer than one of them.
Blaine snatches up his guitar case in front of the door before heading out into the cold, humming a tune to himself under his breath.

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