So, this AU assumes that Kurt and Blaine didn't meet in high school, but when they were a little older and already in New York. I'd like to think this Blaine is more "Dalton Blaine if he didn't switch to McKinley". It is a re-write of another fic I wrote (for full disclosure).

When Blaine opens the door to his apartment and sees Kurt standing in the hallway with his suitcase, he looks like he's just seen his mother naked …

… which is not the welcome that Kurt was expecting.

"Uh … Kurt …" Blaine's eyes flick back and forth between Kurt's suitcase and the smile twisting his lips. "What are you doing here?"

"Remember last night when we talked about me moving in?" Kurt pushes his way through the door, carrying not only the suitcase in his hand, but wheeling one behind him.

"Yeeeee-ah?" Blaine replies, watching helplessly as Kurt invades his home.

"Well, I know I was super reluctant at first, but then I got to thinking …" Kurt doesn't stop in the living room like Blaine had hoped. Instead, he walks his luggage to the bedroom. Blaine rushes to follow "… I'm over here all the time anyway, as you so thoughtfully pointed out, and …"

"And I thought you were worried about personal space," Blaine brings up, panic brewing in his chest as Kurt bypasses the bed and heads for the closet.

"Yeah, well …" Mercifully, Kurt reconsiders his path and stops by Blaine's bed to take off his coat and unwind his scarf "… you did say that I could use your other bedroom as a studio. I think that would be sufficient enough to hide in if I need some space to myself." Kurt opens his arms wide and sighs, a satisfied smile parting his lips. "So, here I am."

"Here you are." Blaine forces a chuckle, the smile on his face almost a grimace as his teeth clench tight, making his eyes bulge in his skull.

Kurt tilts his head as he shrugs off his coat the rest of the way, observing the odd behavior of his usually mellow boyfriend.

"What's up?" Kurt's smile disappears as the furrow in his brow deepens. "Last night you were climbing all over me to move in. Now you look like you're stuck in the path of a runaway semi."

"Uh …" Blaine's eyes dart anxiously to the closet, and Kurt's look of confusion slips into one of anger.

"I knew it!" Kurt says, reaching for his coat again. "I just … I knew it!"

"Knew what?" Blaine rushes forward and grabs for Kurt's coat to keep him from getting it back over his shoulders. "Kurt …"

"It was all talk, wasn't it?"

Kurt's question is rhetorical, but Blaine answers anyway.

"No," Blaine says, succeeding in yanking the coat from Kurt's arms and tossing it onto the bed. "It wasn't all talk. I just … I wish you had given me a little time to … to prepare."

"Prepare for what?" Kurt narrows his eyes at Blaine. "Last night you made it seem like I could move in right away."

"And you can," Blaine says with a touch more exasperation than he intends. "I just need to do some … rearranging. That's all."

Kurt stares at Blaine hard, trying to unearth the reasons behind his suspicious behavior, but Blaine's expression remains blank and, as far as Kurt can tell, honest.

He sighs.

"You're right, Blaine. I'm sorry. After I left here last night and gave your offer some thought, I kicked myself for not jumping at it. Then, when I decided to take you up on it, I was so excited, I just packed up my things and raced over. I guess I wasn't thinking. I should have at least called first, given you a heads up."

Blaine's whole body relaxes. Something about his extreme relief raises alarms in Kurt's head, but those are overshadowed by Kurt's feelings of guilt for barging in.

"That's all I wanted," Blaine says.

Kurt looks at Blaine, his face tense despite the apology, and Kurt takes it as a sign to leave.

"So, I should get my bags and go," Kurt reasons out loud.

"No!" Blaine puts his arms around Kurt and holds him tight. "No, I want you to move in. I just need, like, fifteen minutes …" Kurt peeks up at Blaine's face and catches him looking at the closet again. "So, why don't you stop by that café on the corner and order us some lunch." Blaine reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. He opens it and hands Kurt a twenty. "I'll get things squared away here, and then we'll get you moved in."

Kurt looks at the bill in his hand, and then back at Blaine. Blaine is usually a better liar than this – though Blaine has only lied about little things to Kurt, things that wouldn't make or break their relationship. Whatever this is, it has to be a doozy.

"Okay," Kurt agrees, pocketing the money and kissing Blaine quickly on the lips, adding a condescending pat on the cheek that Blaine seems to miss or just plain overlook as he ushers Kurt back through the rooms and out of the apartment. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Take your time," Blaine mutters, kissing the air close to Kurt's cheek, then nearly slamming the door in his face.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck …" Blaine chants as he hurries back to his room. He goes straight to the closet and throws open the door. "I've got to get you guys out of here!"

In hindsight, he should have done this a long time ago. He always knew that Kurt was 'the one'. Something inside him has always known. He should have put this behind him then and there, but every year that went by, it happened again, and Blaine couldn't stop it. He didn't have the power.

Part of him feels bad at the idea of shoving this away, but now isn't the time to linger on his doubts.

Blaine pulls a folded brown cardboard box out of the closet – a relic from when he first moved to this apartment years ago – and starts constructing it. He doesn't have time to duct tape it, so he prays the box will hold till he gets it to his storage locker in the basement. Hanger after hanger, he yanks them down until the box is full to bursting.

"Come on come on come on …" He pleads with the box whose sides are bowing, stunned that he never realized he had amassed so many. He gathers the pregnant box into his arms, not even bothering with the flaps in an effort to save time. He stumbles out into the hall, kneeing the bottom of the box when it starts to slip.

Just then, Blaine hears the front door open, and he freezes with the box in his arms.

"Sorry, Blaine," Kurt calls from the door, "but I dropped my keys when I took off my coat …"

Kurt had been standing in the hall outside Blaine's apartment, waiting for him to appear – or more to the point, Blaine's mysterious whatever to appear. When five minutes had gone by and still nothing, Kurt decided for a more direct approach.

"… and I'm pretty sure they must have landed …"

Kurt stops short when he finds Blaine frozen in the hallway, crouched as if he's preparing to run, a cardboard box collapsing in his arms and his eyes blown open wide.

This isn't at all what Kurt had been expecting.

"Blaine?" he asks, worried more than suspicious now that he sees the state his boyfriend is in. "Are you …?"

Blaine's eyes subconsciously dart down to the box, and Kurt's eyes follow, stealing a glance down and up. But when he catches a glimpse of the box's contents, he looks back and stares, his lips curling at the edges, eyes shining with delight. "

What … what are those?" Kurt wants to laugh, is dying to laugh, but Blaine is paralyzed in place like a frightened animal, and Kurt doesn't want to risk scaring Blaine away before he's gotten the chance to enjoy this moment.

"Th-these?" Blaine stutters, wearing a look of horror that Kurt has never before seen on his boyfriend's face. "These are … well, these … what were we talking about?"

Kurt can't help himself. The contents of the box are begging him to go through them and tease Blaine with them one by one.

"You have … ugly sweaters!"

"These? N-no …" Blaine stammers as Kurt starts rooting through the box of knit wear. "These aren't mine. They're …"

Kurt pulls one out and holds it up – the chosen victim decorated with a nativity scene, but with cats portraying the holy family instead of people, and Blaine's name embroidered in large letters across the chest.

"They aren't yours, huh?"

Blaine's head drops back on his neck. He squeezes his eyes shut, begging quietly for death to take him.

"Look," Blaine groans, "I have a confession to make."

"Okay …" Kurt crosses his arms over his chest, still clutching the horrendous sweater, as he prepares to hear the greatest excuse of Blaine Anderson's life. "Let's hear it."

"I have …"

"Yes …?"

Blaine exhales heavily and swallows hard.

"… a grandmother."

"No!" Kurt gasps sarcastically. Blaine adjusts the box in his arms and looks away, not interested in watching Kurt make fun of him. "Blaine! I know you have a grandmother. I've met your grandmother! Remember?"

"That was my mom's mom. I'm talking about my dad's mom. You haven't met her because my parents moved her into a home a few months before you and I started dating. She likes to knit. A lot." Blaine looks at the sweaters in the box, frowning at one at the very top festooned with festively dressed teddy bears drinking egg nog in front of a Christmas tree. "She's become a little senile over the past few years. She seems to think I'm still twelve-years-old."

"Were you ever going to tell me?" Kurt asks, not offended by Blaine's omission, simply curious.

"About my grandmother … yes," Blaine admits.

"But not the sweaters."

It's not a question.

"Nope."

"Well, too bad." Kurt takes Blaine's arm and leads him back to the bedroom. "You're not getting off that easy."

"Wh-what do you mean?" Blaine asks, catching the box before it falls to the ground.

"It means we're not having sex again until you model every one of these sweaters for me."

"Kurt! No!" Blaine whines.

"Yes, Blaine." Consider it penance for making me think you were cheating on me.

Kurt takes the box from Blaine's hands and drops it on the bed, but he tosses the cat nativity sweater back at him. Blaine catches it. He glares at the offending garment as if his eyes could light the thing on fire. Kurt clears his throat. Blaine looks at his boyfriend reclining on the bed, smiling like anything, waiting for the fashion show to begin.

"Aren't you going to love having me as a roommate?" Kurt picks up Blaine's remote for his audio system and switches it on. The first song on their playlist from last night – affectionately called fooling around music – bumps through the speakers.

Blaine gives the cat sweater one last scowl, and says, "Whose idea was it for you to move in again?"

Notes:

Also, just so you know, I feel this Blaine is sort of OOC since I think that he would wholly embrace having a collection of ugly sweaters knitted for him by his grandmother, but I thought this was funny. xD