Kurt can't believe he's agreed to do this. It's a horrible idea. Of course, driving from Lima, Ohio to New York City, in his beat-up old Navigator probably isn't a great idea, either. . .the chances of the car making it those few hundred miles isn't so hot. But at least he can blast his own music, and sing along, and revel in the fact that he's finally, finally going to the city that he's been dreaming about since, oh, well, forever. The horrible part, of course, is agreeing to carpool with Rachel's boyfriend. He can barely stand Rachel, despite a shared history, and there's a little voice in his head telling him that her boyfriend has to be a hundred times worse.
And he's not endearing himself at all by being super late.
"He'll be here," Rachel assures Kurt, as he glances pointedly at his clock. "He's probably just fixing his hair. He's very particular about his hair. It's a sure sign of stardom, focusing on hair like that."
"Right," Kurt drawls. "Well, if your pretty thing doesn't get here in ten minutes, I'm leaving without him." Rachel sighs.
Fortunately (for Rachel's boyfriend, not for Kurt, because he does not need a driving partner) the doors to OSU's dorms open and a short boy comes parading down. Rachel instantly squeaks, and jumps up to throw her arms around his neck. Well, Kurt thinks, looking him over, at the very least Rachel has good taste. Her boyfriend is charming and dressed exquisitiely, in an olive green cardigan that brings out the green in his hazel eyes, and a pair of tight jeans that leave just enough to the imagination.
His hair is, as Rachel implied, impeccably styled. In short, the boy is absolutely gorgeous. And, Kurt's fair side admits, he and Rachel look darling together.
Still, when they proceed to make out on the steps, Kurt is getting impatient. He's been waiting for twelve minutes already, and he has a schedule. The car horn honks, long, loud, and incredibly obnoxious. Whoops. . .that wasn't on purpose. Totally not on purpose.
Still, it does it's job as the boy disentangles himself from Rachel and saunters down to the car. He doesn't have any baggage, which is kind of weird. He blows a final kiss to Rachel, opens the passenger door, and hops in.
"Hi," the boy says brightly. "I'm Blaine."
Kurt puts the car in drive and pulls onto the highway before he answers. "My name's Kurt," he says. An awkward moment passes.
"So. . .how long have you known Rachel?" Blaine asks, finally. Kurt glances over at his passenger, who is all easy smile and crinkling hazel eyes.
"Since high school," he says. "We were in Glee club together."
"Really?" Blaine asks. "That's awesome. I was in my school's acappella group. We won Nationals, my senior year."
Well, Kurt thinks, this is a little more interesting. He turns to the other boy, one eyebrow quirked. "Vocal Adrenaline?" he asks. Blaine snorts.
"Gross. Please don't tell me that you honestly think I could be one of those robotic lunatics. I went to Dalton. The Warblers."
Kurt grins at that, and bites at his cheek. "We beat you at Regionals my junior year. Only got second at Nationals, though."
"Small world," Blaine says. Another five minutes pass, before Kurt finally speaks again.
"So, I figure if we each take three hour shifts, we can be there in four shifts. Obviously I'm going first but. . ."
"Let's play some music," Blaine interrupts, leaning forward and turning on the radio. He shifts through the stations, finally ending on a Top 40s station that Kurt absolutely hates. "You don't mind, do you?"
Kurt does mind, actually, because Katy Perry is singing, and he absolutely hates Katy Perry. But Blaine is singing along already, banging his hands on the dashboard and nodding his head. So Kurt bites his lip, and hopes that his driving partner will want to take a nap at some time, and he can pop in his iPod, which is filled with showtunes and Broadway classics.
But Blaine doesn't take a nap. He just sings along to everything on the radio, including the irritating commercial jingles. He does have a nice voice, which Kurt appreciates, but even having a nice voice can't excuse singing along to Justin Bieber. To make matters worse, halfway through Blaine's shift he pulls up in front of a greasy looking diner.
"What are you doing?" Kurt asks.
"I'm hungry," Blaine says. "Besides, it'll do us good to stretch out legs."
Kurt follows him into the restaurant, even though it's completely screwing up his schedule. He sits down across from Blaine, and skims through the menu. There is absolutely nothing there that looks appetizing, and eh thinks he would actually die rather than putting any of that crap into his body. Blaine, on the other hand, orders a burger, onion rings, fries, and two milkshakes. Kurt orders a salad.
"So, what are you planning on doing in New York?" Blaine asks, stuffing the burger in his mouth. Kurt sighs, and pushes the salad around on his plate. He'd asked for no salad dressing, just a drizzle of olive oil. Apparently a "drizzle" meant that it was drenched.
"I've got a job with Zac," Kurt says. Blaine lifts one eyebrow, and delicately dabs at his mouth before responding.
"Zac Posen?" he asks. "That's pretty impressive, for a recent graduate?" Kurt raises an eyebrow.
"You know designers?" He's surprised, because this is a guy who looks like he just stepped out of GQ, but he dated Rachel, and Rachel has possibly the worst fashion sense of any woman in the entire world. At that moment, their waitress stops by again, and he reaches out to stop her. "Excuse me," he says. "I asked for just a drizzle of olive oil. This is a salad soup. If you don't mind, I'd like another salad, but this time just put a pinch of pepper on it, and a little bit of olive oil on the side. Also, if you could hold the cheese, and just give me the tomatoes on a separate plate."
Both Blaine and the waitress raise their eyebrows.
"You know," Blaine says idly, after the waitress has finally brought back another plate of salad (this one made to Kurt's specifications), "you're an extremely attractive man."
Kurt almost spits out the sip of water that he'd just taken. Because Blaine is dating Rachel, and let's face it, most straight guys are so terrified of homosexuality that they feel uncomfortable even looking at Kurt. "Thanks. . ." he says uncertainly. Blaine smirks a little.
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
"Um. . .no," Kurt says. "I don't really. . .swing that way."
"Oh," Blaine says. "Got a boyfriend then."
"No."
"Well, why not?"
Kurt raises an eyebrow. "Seriously?" he asks. "I'm an out and proud gay kid living in Ohio."
"You're also very good-looking, and obviously talented if you have a job with Zac Posen," Blaine says. "I don't think it's an unreasonable question."
"No," Kurt says shortly. "I don't have a boyfriend. Actually, I've never had a boyfriend."
Blaine seems to consider this for a moment, as he sips at his milkshake. He then holds his hand out. "Give me your phone," he says. Kurt doesn't know why, but he hands his phone over. Blaine grabs it, and quickly punches in a bunch of numbers before handing it back over.
"What did you do?" Kurt asks.
"Gave you my number," Blaine says. "One of my ex-boyfriends lives in the city. I'm going to set you up."
This time Kurt does splutter, and chokes on his water a little. "Ex-boyfriend?" he asks. "But you're. . ."
"With Rachel?" Blaine says, smiling charmingly. "Yeah, now. I'm bi."
Kurt rolls his eyes. "There's no such thing as bi," he says archly. "That's just a label for scared gay guys who are afraid to admit who they really are." Throughout his little speech, Blaine's face has grown progressively darker.
"So you're saying that Rachel's just my beard?"
"If you're not Rachel's beard," Kurt says off-handedly. "I've always questioned Rachel, myself."
Blaine doesn't say anything for the rest of the meal. When the check comes, he angrily takes it up to the cash register and pays for both of them. He then stalks back to the car, and starts driving off. This time, he doesn't sing along to the music.
"Listen, I'm sorry," Kurt says after an hour of uncomfortable conversation. "I didn't mean to insult you. I'm just so used to gay guys using bisexuality as a shield."
"No, I get it," Blaine says. "I used to think that, too, but then I met Rachel and. . .she's just amazing, you know? She's, like, the female version of me. And we fit together so, so perfectly. Like last week we went to see Love Story at the Civic. We dressed as the characters, and recited all of the dialogue."
Wow, Kurt thinks, that's not gay as all.
"Anyway, I'll still hook you up with Jeremiah, in New York," Blaine says. "He loves Broadway. . .he'd probably enjoy having an actual date to take with him."
"Thanks," Kurt says slowly. "You know. . .maybe you and I could catch a show, too, sometime."
"I don't think so," Blaine says, his hands tightening on the wheel. "I mean. . .two gay guys can't just be friends. Sex always gets in the way."
Kurt stares at him for a moment, his strong profile, backlit by the highway lights. Blaine's hair has started to curl at the edges, restricting the gel. His lips are full, and oh so kissable. Kurt hasn't had a ton of experience with other gay guys – or straight ones, for that matter – but as he fights an urge to grab Blaine by the lapels and kiss the living daylights out of him, he thinks that the other boy might have a point.
"Yeah," he says. "I guess that means we can't be friends. It's a shame. . .you'll be the only person I know in New York.
Xxxx
The next time Kurt sees Blaine it's at the airport, five years later. He's flying back to Ohio to visit his dad and stepmother. Dave drove him to the airport, which was incredibly sweet of him. Dave was a number of things, including rich and handsome, but he was rarely sweet. Usually when Kurt asked him to go shopping, he just grunted about there being a football game on. But this time he'd volunteered to drive all the way to Newark, and Kurt had been more than willing to take him up on it.
He spots Blaine out the corner of his eye, just a quick flash of hazel and curly hair, and Kurt panics a little. It's going to be one of those horribly awkward moments, where Kurt remembers someone, and they don't remember him, and he can still remember wanting to kiss the other boy. So he freaks out, grabs Dave's head, and kisses him.
"Excuse me," He hears, then, and he turns around. Blaine is standing right in front of them, and God, he looks good. He's wearing his hair curly now, and there are a pair of thick glasses over his hazel eyes. He's wearing a vest and. . .oh, yeah, Kurt's totally got a boyfriend now, so he banishes those thoughts from his head.
"I saw you and. . .do I know you?" Blaine asks, and Kurt's heart sinks. Because, of course the other boy doesn't remember him. That's kind of sickening.
"Kurt Hummel," he says. "We drove here from Lima together."
"Oh, yeah," Blaine says with a grin. "I knew you were familiar. You flying home?"
"I am," Kurt says. "Where are you headed?"
"Same," Blaine says, before glancing significantly at Dave. Kurt recovers, realizing how rude he's been, just leaving the two boys to stare at one another.
"Sorry," Kurt says, a little flustered. "Dave, this is Blaine. Blaine, this is my boyfriend, Dave."
"Oh, so you finally got a boyfriend!" Blaine says. Kurt winces, because it's incredibly inappropriate, but Blaine just seems so happy that he can't really blame him. "Say, whatever happened to Jeremiah?"
"You know, I really have to check my bags," Kurt says. Dave is still standing there, and this is an incredibly awkward conversation to be having in front of his boyfriend, even if Dave is fighting against a grin. Blaine apologizes, as dapper as ever, and heads off toward security.
"Sorry about that," Kurt says. Dave just shrugs, leans down, and kisses Kurt again.
"Have a good trip, sweetcheeks," he says. Kurt rolls his eyes good-naturedly. He hates that nickname, but Dave loves it. Oh, compromise. The things he'll do for love. Or if not love. . .well, a nice apartment on Park Avenue and a walk in closet big enough to fit all of his fashion.
When he finds his seat on the plane, he's not surprised that it's directly next to Blaine. Of course it is. The universe just loves him that way. He slides in, and tries to smile when Blaine grins at him, but it's nearly impossible, because Blaine's got a five o'clock shadow, and it is beyond sexy. When Dave doesn't shave he just starts to look like a hairy bear, but Blaine. . .he shakes his head.
"So, how's Rachel?" he asks. Blaine raises his eyebrow.
"Don't you know?" he asks. "I mean, you guys have known each other for ever. You were great friends."
"Frenemies, really," Kurt admits. "I haven't talked to her at all since I moved to New York, unfortunately."
"Oh," Blaine says. "Well, we broke up, but we still keep in touch. She's doing well. Told me she just met someone new."
"Oh," Kurt says. "I'm . . . sorry you broke up. Although, honestly, I'm not all that surprised."
"Really?" Blaine asks, and chuckles a little. "Because you don't believe in bisexuality." Kurt doesn't answer. He wonders how long the other boy is going to hold this against him.
"Well, you might have been right," Blaine says. "You were right about me, anyway. Turns out I am gay. 100% gay."
Kurt tries to hide his smile.
"It's okay, though," Blaine muses. "I actually met someone new."
"Really?" Kurt asks. Blaine's shoots him a half smile, a little twist of the lips and sparkling hazel eyes.
"Well, no," he admits. "Someone old, actually. I started getting coffee with Jeremiah, and then coffee turned to dinner, and dinner turned to dating and. . .well. . ." we're engaged."
Kurt doesn't think his eyebrows can raise any higher. How is it possible that Blaine, who wasn't even willing to admit that he liked guys better than girls, is getting married before he, Kurt Hummel of the amazing fashion sense?
"Oh," Kurt says, finally. "Well. . .congratulations. I guess."
"Thanks," Blaine says. "It looks like you've found someone, too."
"Yeah," Kurt says. "Yeah, Dave's. . .Dave's really great. . ."
xxx
Five years later, Kurt is at lunch with his ladies. It's their daily dirt session. Kurt and Santana are trying desperately not to roll their eyes while Mercedes tries to explain to them why this time, finally, her secret lover is going to leave his wife for her.
"He's only with her for the image," she insists. "And because Quinn is pregnant."
"Exactly," Santana points out. "Quinn is pregnant. With Puck's baby. Which means, no matter what he tells you, he's had sex with her since meeting you."
Mercedes sighs, and puts her hands in her hands. "Oh my God. He's never going to leave her, is he?"
"No," Kurt and Santana say in unison. "Never."
"This," Santana says drolly. "Is why you should date women. They're so much easier."
Kurt and Mercedes both look at her with identically disgusted expressions. "Ew," they both say. Santana rolls her eyes.
"Hos before bros, yo," she says with a grin. This time only Kurt laughs.
"That's it," Mercedes says firmly. "I just need to get a hold of my inner diva. Shopping trip?"
"Absolutely," Kurt says. Santana shakes her head.
"Sorry," she says. "I told Brit I'd take the stupid cat to the vet today. I don't think anything's wrong with it. . .other than a ridiculous case of stupid, but Brit thinks it might actually be sick." Her gaze goes soft when she talks about her girlfriend, and Kurt grins.
One hour later, he finds himself in the Bloomingdale's dressing room, waiting for Mercedes to pop out and show him whatever fabulous outfit she's trying on. He knows that she'll still go back to Noah Puckerman, the minute the dick calls, but he's trying to do this new supportive thing. Ever since he and Dave split up, he's trying to reprioritize, all around him. The door creaks and Kurt looks up.
But it's not Mercedes dressing room, but the one next door, and Blaine steps out, wearing a bathing suit that's slung so low it should be illegal. He has a full beard going on, which should disgust Kurt, but it looks absolutely stunning.
"Kurt?" Blaine asks. Kurt forces his eyes up from the other man's hip bones (God, he just wants to lick that strip of skin).
"Blaine Anderson," Kurt says. "It's been a while."
"Yeah," Blaine says. "You look good."
That, of course, is the moment that Mercedes finally decides to step out of her own changing room, still clad in her original outfit. "I didn't really like. . .oooh," she says, spotting Blaine. She licks her finger and holds it up. "Damn, white boy, you fine," she drawls. Blaine grins.
"Thanks," he says. "I'm Blaine."
"Mercedes," she says. Kurt glares at her, trying to communicate several things using just his eyes. Trying to communicate "he's gay" and "he's married" and "he's mine." Clearly, Mercedes understands one of the messages, because she glances away from Blaine, and pulls her phone out.
"Shit," She hisses, and looks at Kurt. "Puck just called. I've got to go meet her."
Kurt isn't sure whether she's made up the excuse to leave him alone with Blaine, or if she's serious. He dearly hopes it's the first one. Either way, she's out the door and headed down the steps immediately.
"She's. . .nice?" Blaine says. Kurt grins fondly.
"She's one of my best friends," he says. "Anyway. . .we were supposed to get coffee after this, though evidently I've been dumped. . ."
"Hey, I'll get coffee with you," Blaine says, sounding almost eager. "Just let me change."
Kurt resists the urge to tell the other man that he looks just fine as is. But Blaine has apparently learned in the past ten years how to change quickly, and they're across the street, Blaine with a bag in hands, in under fifteen minutes.
"One medium drip and. . ." Blaine looks expectantly over at Kurt.
"Grande non-fat, no-whip latte with two shots of espresso and just a sprinkle of cinnamon," Kurt says. The barista stares at him for a moment, before nodding her head. " "8.70," she says. Kurt starts to pull out his wallet.
"I've got this one," Blaine says, with a charming smile. Kurt's lips twitch back at him. They get their coffee and sit down.
"So. . ." Blaine says slowly. "How's it going. How's. . .um. . .Dave?"
"I don't know," Kurt says honestly. "We broke up a few months ago."
"Sorry to hear that."
"Yeah," Kurt says. "Me, too." He takes a sip of his latte, trying to calm down his heart. But Blaine is just sitting there, staring at him with compassionate hazel eyes. Before Kurt knows it, he's spilling his entire heart to the other man.
"Four years," he says. "Four years. We're together for four years, and marriage still isn't an option. We'd always said it was so great, what we had. . .the way we could just take off at a moment's notice for Rome, or have sex on the kitchen counter without worrying about kids, or a ring getting in the way or. . .but here's the thing, Blaine. We never did fly off to Rome."
"And the kitchen counter?" Blaine asks, his eyes the very picture of innocence.
"Not once," Kurt admits.
"You're not missing out," Blaine says. "It's kind of hard and uncomfortable. Especially if you've sprung for the granite."
"Anyway," Kurt says. "After four years I realized that I wanted the wedding, and the rings and. . .and maybe even the kids. But enough about me. What about you? How's Jeremiah?"
At this, Blaine's eyes start to fill with tears. "I. . .he. . .we're separated," he says, although Kurt notices that he stills has his wedding ring on his finger. "He. . .um. . .he left me. For some douche in the IRS."
"Oh, Blaine," Kurt says, reaching across and clasping the other man's hand. "I'm so sorry."
"It's fine," Blaine says, but his voice is rough. He rubs his fist across his eyes hurriedly. "I mean, it's . . .it's not fine, but it's over, anyway."
"Hey," Kurt says. "It's fine. He didn't deserve you, anyway."
One week later they meet again, for coffee, and Kurt realizes that somehow they've become friends.
One month later Blaine knows his coffee order.
Xxx
They're walking in Central Park one day. It's the middle of the afternoon. Kurt knows that fall is Blaine's favorite season. The other man loves the way the colors turn colors, and the way the air turns crisp and bright. Kurt's a fan of winter, because there's something incredibly romantic about the snow coating the city. Blaine's still wearing Jeremiah's ring on his finger, but they've signed the divorce papers, and Kurt has a date that night. They've fallen into a comfortable friendship of coffee together, and occasional trips to Broadway, and dinners that seem like dates but never are.
Blaine's in a particularly playful mood, stopping to pet every dog that they see, and speaking in a ridiculous accent.
"Waiter, there's too much pepper on my poppycosh," he says. Kurt giggles.
"You sound absolutely ridiculous," he says.
"But I would be proud to partake of your pecan pie."
Kurt's in the middle of another fit of laughter when he sees the clock, and realizes that he only has two hours to get to his date, and he hasn't even begun to put together his outfit.
"So, Breadstix tonight?" Blaine asks, and Kurt feels a real wash of regret.
"I can't," he says. "I have a date tonight."
"That's great!" Blaine says, his face breaking into a wide grin. "Good to know that you're getting back on the horse."
"Yeah," Kurt says, staring at his friend. Blaine looks somehow lost, his mouth forcing a smile that doesn't quite reach to his eyes. Kurt reaches out and grabs his hand. "You should try it, too," he says.
"What? Riding a horse?"
"Dating," Kurt says. "You're never going to get over Jeremiah if you don't at least try."
Blaine snorts. "You know," he says. "This is why I didn't like you at first. You're so pushy."
"I didn't like you at first, either," Kurt says. It's a total lie, but the other boy doesn't need to know that. "Anyway. You're going on a date. There's this guy at the office who's been trying to hit on my all month. You'd be doing me a favor, getting him off my back."
"Win win, huh?" Blaine asks, and this time his eyes do crinkle in that familiar way. "Who says he'll even like me?"
"Please," Kurt says, rolling his eyes. "You're absolutely gorgeous. He works in fashion design and has a crush on me. He obviously appreciates aesthetics."
Blaine laughs. "You know," he muses," you might be the first beautiful man I haven't wanted to sleep with."
Kurt's heart stutters at that a bit, and he's not sure whether it's because Blaine called him beautiful, or because he basically admitted that they would never get together. Which is ridiculous, because Kurt has a date, anyway.
They meet the next week for their regular coffee date. Kurt describes, in excrutiating detail, the way in which his date ate with his hands, wiped them on his jeans, and seemed to think that licking was an appropriate substitute for kissing. Not surprisingly, there wasn't going to be a second date.
Blaine, on the other hand, described how his date was perfect. Except that they went to Jeremiah's favorite restaurant, and the guy did ads for the Gap, which was where Jeremiah worked back in college, and he wore the same cologne as Jeremiah.
"That's rough," Kurt says. "Still, I'm proud of you for trying."
"Yeah," Blaine agrees. "At least the sex was good."
Kurt stares at him, absolutely shocked. "Wait. . .you had a horrible time, but you still had sex with him?"
"Well, yeah," Blaine admits, apparently as surprised as Kurt. "Why wouldn't I?"
"Because. . .well. . ." Kurt is floundering. He doesn't really know how to admit that he hasn't slept with anyone since Dave. . .that in fact, he hadn't slept with anyone else before. Blaine obviously picks it up, though, and he settles his hand on Kurt's shoulder. The warmth seeps through the layers.
"Hey," he says gently. "It's fine. You and I are different people. I'm tactile and I need. . .I need to be with people like that."
"Whereas I think the most romantic thing is the gentle brush of fingers," Kurt says. Blaine grins.
"Sometimes," he says. "I just like a good fuck. You're different. . .I don't think you could fuck someone if you tried."
"Excuse me?"
Blaine reaches up, and cups Kurt's face gently between his hands. "You, Kurt Hummel, are incapable of doing anything other than making love."
Kurt tries to ignore the way his face feels cold when Blaine takes his hands away.
Xxx
"So, who are you taking to Santana's New Year's Eve party?" Mercedes asks. It's just after Christmas, and they're strolling down Fifth Avenue, just enjoying the lights that are still up and window shopping.
"I don't know," Kurt muses. "Maybe I'll take Blaine. . .I don't think he's found himself another fuck buddy yet."
"I bought myself flowers," Mercedes suddenly admits. "I bought a huge bouquet, and wrote out a note. I wanted Puck to see them, so he'd think I was being courted."
Kurt sighs. "Oh, Mercedes. . .you've got to get over him."
"I know, I know," she says. "He's never going to leave her. Never. He told me that he was going to spend New Year's Eve with me, but then he had to cancel. His daughter is having a slumber party and he has to stay home to supervise."
"You're too good for him," Kurt says.
"I know," Mercedes agrees. "But he's just got those amazing arms. . ."
That afternoon, Kurt meets Blaine for dinner at the Chinese place just a block from his place.
"Do you have plans for New Year's Eve?" Kurt asks, abruptly, and out of the blue. As usual, Blaine waits until his mouth is free of food before he answers.
"Not really," he admits.
"My friend Santana is having a party," Kurt says. "You should come."
"She know any hot gay guys?" Blaine asks playfull. Kurt grins, a wry little smile. "Seriously, Blaine? You just broke up with . . .what's his name, Thad? And you're already looking for another boyfriend?"
"Not a boyfriend," Blaine says chipperly. "Just a good lay."
Kurt cringes. "Just because you're gorgeous doesn't mean that every gay guy on earth wants to get with you," he says. "Some people actually want a little romance in their lives."
"I suck at romance," Blaine admits. "That was always Jeremiah's biggest complaint about me. That I thought cheese was a substitute for true romance. You know what I am good at, though?"
"Don't be crude," Kurt says primly. "Besides, let's face it. . .it doesn't take much to get a guy off."
"Oh, come on," Blaine says. "What would you know? You haven't had sex in. . .what. . .six months?"
"So?" Kurt asks. "Doesn't mean I can't get it up as quickly as another guy."
"Really?" Blaine asks. "You can just get it up, without anyone turning you on?"
"Easy," Kurt says, and tries to ignore the way that his heart is pounding in his chest. Blaine glances around them, at the other people in the restaurant, before scotching over next to Kurt.
"All right," He says, whispering huskily into Kurt's ear. His breath passes warm and wet over Kurt's neck. "Prove it. I want to see an erection in one minute."
Kurt's eyes pop over, and he turns to glance at Blaine, because that is just beyond inappropriate. But Blaine is just sitting there, triangular eyebrows lifted innocently. Blaine knows that Kurt is uncomfortable about sex, but he's still sitting there teasing him.
"Face it, Kurt," Blaine says. "I turn guys on. You can't get hard that quick without attraction.
"Fine," Kurt says. Baby penguin or not, he wants to prove the other man hard. Exactly sixty seconds later, he grabs Blaine's hand and presses it hard against his own crotch. Blaine whispers appreciatively.
"Kurt, babe, you are packing," he says. Kurt giggles a little. He doesn't tell Blaine that he'd been half hard the minute their thighs touched.
They meet later that night at Santana's. Kurt notices, appreciatively, that Blaine's shaved for the first time since breaking up with Jeremiah. They spend the night sipping champagne and dancing together.
"This is nice," Blaine says as they sway side to side to the bad music. "We should make a promise. If we're both single next New Year's, we'll spend it together."
"Sounds like a plan," Kurt says with a sigh. He leans his head on Blaines' shoulder, which is a little awkward since the other boy is shorter than him. Blaine smells good. Like, really good.
They escape to the balcony mere minutes before midnight, and stare out at the city.
"Sometimes I still can't believe I'm here," Kurt admits. "I spent my whole childhood waiting to escape to New York City. This city is just unreal."
"It's beautiful," Blaine agrees. Kurt can't tell if he's staring at the Chrysler building, or at Kurt's own profile. From inside, they hear people counting down to midnight. His stomach flipflops a little uncomfortably in his stomach. He wonders if this will be the moment when everything changes, when Blaine and he finally take that final step from just friends to something more.
But at midnight, Blaine just clutches him into a tight hug.
"You know," Kurt whispers into his shoulder. "You're my best friend. You could have kissed me. It's good luck."
Blaine chuckles a little. "Kurt, I. . .I really, really care about you. I don't want to mess this up."
Kurt kind of wonders what he means by "this." But later that night he sees Blaine drunkenly make out with Tina Cohen-Chang, before babbling that he might be bi after all, and then he has a pretty good idea of what that is.
Xxx
"I looked at his receipt from American Express," Mercedes admits. "He spent $4,000 on a sapphire ring. I thought it was for me, but the Quinn came into the office, and she was wearing it on her finger."
"Wait," Kurt mused. "You were going through his things? What would he have done if he'd caught you?"
"He's never going to leave her," Mercedes sighs. "Never. I don't know why I can't just give him up. I should just find myself another man. A better man."
Suddenly Kurt has an idea. It's a brilliant idea, a perfect idea, and the words are out before he even has the chance to stop himself.
"You should go out with Blaine," he says.
"Blaine? As in, your Blaine?"
"We're just friends," Kurt corrects her.
"But isn't he gay?"
"Maybe," Kurt admits. "But he dated Rachel for a year and a half, and he made out with Tina at New Year's, and he slept with some random other girl just last week, so you've got a shot."
"I don't know. . ." Mercedes sighs. "You're my best friend, and you've been crushing on him for months."
"Have not," Kurt says. "Besides, it's a brilliant idea. We're all friends, and this way we'll keep being friends, instead of drifting apart when we get into relationships, the way everyone does."
So it is that in one week's time, Kurt finds himself going out to dinner with Blaine, Mercedes, and Sam Evans, a friend of Blaine's from work. Blaine insists that Sam is gay (he would know, since they'd slept together Sam's second week on the job).
"So, what do you think of Patti Lupone?" Kurt asks. Sam just gapes at him.
"Uh. . .who's that?" he asks.
"Only the greatest diva of the Broadway stage," Kurt sighs.
"Please," Blaine says, rolling his eyes. "She doesn't even begin to compare to Liza."
"These are delicious mashed potatotes," Mercedes says, in a valiant effort to keep the conversation going. She directs her comment toward Blaine, but it's Sam who answers.
"Tell me about it!" he says enthusiastically. "But then, I just love potatotes. Anything you do with them, they're always great. Baked, sliced, au gratin, French fries. . ."
"Tater tots," Mercedes suggests, and Sam's face lights up.
"I love tots!" he says. Kurt glances at Blaine, who has one eyebrow lifted. Kurt's getting seriously annoyed, because it seems like every single gay guy in the city has finally decided to go bi.
Xxx
Four months later, they're in a weird, second hand shop, looking for a wedding gift for Mercedes and Sam. Blaine is flitting around like a five year old, excitedly picking up basketball hoops, and duck phones, and old OSU jackets.
"We're here for 'cedes and Sam," Kurt reminds him. "We can go shopping for you, later, babe."
"Oh. My. God," Blaine breathes out, dropping the sparkly hula hoop that he'd been holding. "That's it." He walks, almost in a dream-like state, over to an old karaoke machine. "We have to get this for her. We just have to."
Kurt actually considers it, because Mercedes does love to sing. But then Blaine has turned it on, and is holding up a microphone.
"Sing with me?" he begs. Kurt hesitates, because Blaine is so Top 40s, and it sometimes drives him crazy. But it's a different song playing now, and Kurt can't help but join in.
"The power lines are down, and I am all alone, But I don't really care at all, not answering my phone,"
Their voices harmonize together, perfectly. It's like they're meant to be singing together. Kurt glances up, and his eyes meet Blaine. For one moment he thinks there's something, there, a spark, something. But then Blaine glances to the side, and his expression suddenly closes in. Kurt glances over, too.
There's a pair of young men walking toward them, one tall and nerdy, the other shorter, with flowing blond hair. Kurt doesn't recognize either of them.
"Hello, Blaine," the shorter, better-looking one says. "How are you doing?"
"Hi, Jeremiah," Blaine says. "I'm doing well. You?"
Kurt stares. This is Jeremiah? Blaine's high school sweetheart? The guy Blaine had volunteered to set him up with? The man who still had a ring on Blaine's finger? Well, Kurt thinks, at least he's cute.
"I'm doing very well," Jeremiah says. "You've met my husband, right?"
"Right," Blaine says, all dapper charm and perfect manners. Kurt knows him, though, knows that it's a façade and that inside he's crumbling.
"Blaine, sweetheart," Kurt says, the endearment feeling natural on his lips. "We really have to go. Otherweise we'll be. . .um. . .late. . ."
"Right," Blaine says, and the smile that he flashes at Kurt is relieved and thankful. "Nice seeing you again, Jeremiah, but we really do have to run."
They leave then, neither glancing back. Blaine doesn't say anything as they hop on the subway, and he's still silent when they walk in to Sam and Mercedes new place. He just throws open the door, and marches up to Sam.
"Why are you getting married?" he asks. "Do you want to be unhappy? Do you want to have your heart broken? Because that's what happens. That's what marriage does."
"What the fuck?" Sam asks.
"Blaine, honey, calm down," Kurt attempts, but Blaine ignores him. He just gestures around the apartment, which is filled with cardboard boxes, since Sam is planning on moving in to Mercedes.
"You're leaving your apartment. You love this apartment. You remember when we moved in? Remember when we got drunk watching the Patriots win the Superbowl? And you're going to give it up, and then she's going to dump you and you're going to be stuck with nothing."
When he finishes his tirade he turns and marches out of the apartment. Kurt sighs, and looks apologetically back at Sam and Mercedes. "He ran into Jeremiah," he attempts to explain, before following his best friend out.
Blaine is leaning against the front door to the brownstone, his arms crossed and his dark eyebrows low over his eyes. Kurt sighs, and places a gentle hand on the other man's shoulder.
"You've really got to stop bottling things up," Kurt says gently. "And then exploding, later. It's not healthy."
"Oh, really?" Blaine snorts. "You're going to try and tell me about not healthy? I'm not the one who broke up with my boyfriend a year ago, and hasn't even tried to get over him."
"That's not fair," Kurt says. He refuses to lose his temper, though. He knows that Blaine is itching to get into a fight. It's just the way the other man works. He tries so hard to be perfect and charming all the time, and then when he loses it, he loses it big. "I have tried."
"Really?" Blaine asks. "Have you even slept with anyone since breaking up with Dave?"
"What?" Kurt asks incredulously, because that is just crazy. Blaine knows how he is. "Are you trying to say that I have to sleep with someone to get over him?"
"Well, it wouldn't hurt," Blaine says.
"Yeah, well you've done enough sleeping around for both of us," Kurt snorts. "Seriously, you're going to have to move to L.A., because you've fucked almost every woman and man in New York."
"I haven't fucked you," Blaine points out.
"Fine," Kurt says. "But it doesn't seem like that's helped you get over Jeremiah. So no, I won't sleep with someone until I'm in love with them, and that's good enough for me."
He doesn't really want to argue anymore, so he runs upstairs and slams the door shut. Blaine can figure out his own ride home.
Xxx
Two weeks later Kurt gets a call from Rachel, inviting him to her and Finn's wedding. He immediately calls Blaine, and the two go out to coffee. Apparently, the hilarity in Kurt's stepbrother marrying Blaine's ex-girlfriend is enough to get them over their fight.
Thank goodness, Kurt thinks. It had been torture trying to survive without his best friend.
Xxx
Two months later, Kurt receives a wedding invitation in the mail. It's for Dave's wedding. He instantly dissolves into tears, which is stupid, because it's been almost two years. Besides, he'd never really been in love with Dave. . .it had just been convenient, and nice, beause he'd never had a boyfriend.
Still, though, it hurts. Because the entire reason they'd broken up was because Kurt wanted to get married, and Dave didn't. And then, less than two years later, Dave's going to be walking down the aisle, with some other guy. He thinks about calling Mercedes, but she's still busy planning her wedding with Sam, and is too euphoric to be ruined. So Kurt calls Blaine.
His best friend is over in less than an hour. Kurt is an absolute mess. His hair is ruffled, and he hasn't done his skin care regime. But this is Blaine, and he doesn't have to impress Blaine, because they're best friends. So he answers the door in his robe and slippers, holding a box of tissues.
"Hey, babe," Blaine says. "How you doing?"
"Not so good," Kurt sniffles. "Horrible, really."
They go in to Kurt's room, and sit down on the bed. Kurt tells Blaine about the invitation, and about Dave, and about how all he really wants to do is plan a wedding. . .a really perfect wedding, with classy flowers and no baby's breath. Nothing like the tacky monstrosity that Mercedes is insisiting on having.
"Its my own fault," Kurt finally wails. "I'm too high-maintenance."
"You have good taste," Blaine says.
"I'm difficult."
"High standards."
"I'm impossible to live with."
"It's a challenge," Blaine says tenderly, rubbing one calloused thumb across Kurt's cheek, brushing away a tear. Kurt gulps in a hurried breath.
"I'm addicted to coffee."
"That much is true," Blaine chuckles. "You just sit here. I'll go put on a pot."
And then Blaine does something insane. He leans forward and kisses Kurt on the mouth. It's just a peck, really, nothing, but it's enough to make Kurt's eyes widen, and his mouth part. Blaine looks equally surprised, pulling back just a bit. Kurt bites his lower lip.
"Sorry," Blaine laughs a little. "I should. . .I should go get that coffee."
"Don't bother," Kurt sighs, leaning forward and catching the other boys lips with his own.
Xxx
Kurt wakes up with a smile on his face. He stretches. His muscles are sore, exhausted, but it feels good. He props himself up on one elbow, and peers at Blaine. The other boy is still sleeping, and he looks absolutely delicious, with his long, dark eyelashes splayed across his face. Kurt can't help it. . .he leans over and kisses the other boy on the nose, before getting up and heading to the kitchen to put on the coffee.
He's humming under his breath, trying to decide what to make for breakfast, when Blaine stumbles out of the bedroom. He's already dressed, and running a hand through his curly hair.
"Hey," he says. Kurt grins up at him.
"Hey yourself," he says. "Coffee's almost ready, and then I was going to make coffee."
"Right, thanks," Blaine says, but his face is unreadable. "Actually, um. . .Kurt, I'm really sorry, I've got to get to work. But I'd really like to have dinner with you. Have dinner with me? Breadstix tonight? We can talk."
Kurt's heart sinks. Talk. Right. That can't be good. Plus, it's a Sunday, so there's no way that Blaine actually has to work. He doesn't say that, though, just returns to his fridge and begins rummaging around, even though he's already found the eggs.
"Sounds good," he mumbles to his milk and grapes. "Just send me a text."
He doesn't pull his head out of the fridge until he hears the door click. He instantly grabs his phone, and dials Mercedes.
"Sup?" she asks, her voice sleepy. Kurt sighs, relieved. Good old, dependable Mercedes, answering the phone.
"You'll never believe who I found in my bed this morning."
"Oh my God, Kurt, you finally slept with someone!" Mercedes sounds ridiculously excited about it.
"Yeah. . .well. . .it was Blaine," Kurt says. This time Mercedes does squeal. Actually squeals.
"I knew it!" she exclaims. "I knew he liked you, and you've been in love with him for so long. . .oh, Kurt, I'm so happy for you!"
"Yeah, well, don't be," Kurt says bitterly. "He already regrets it. It was a huge mistake."
"Oh, honey. . .do you want to grab brunch?"
"No," Kurt sighs. "The wedding's tomorrow and. . .I'll see you there."
He spends the entire day crying and trying to fix his blotchy skin. He doesn't' know why. He realizes, with a start, that he's totally over Dave, and he's over the wedding, but that he's not over Blaine. And Blaine and he weren't even dating. . .it was ridiculous. He doesn't get a text all afternoon. At seven, he orders in Chinese, puts Casablanca in his DVD player, and grabs a bottle of red wine.
Xxx
The wedding is beautiful, despite Mercedes horrible taste in color. Kurt tries to ignore the way that his stomach wriggles when he walks down the aisle, and sees Blaine standing at the other end. He tries to ignore the fact that he wants this to be his wedding, that he wants to see Blaine waiting for him, instead of standing slightly behind Sam. He tries to ignore how handsome Blaine looks in that tux, tries to ignore the way that Blaine's face is clear and worry free.
He tries to ignore Blaine at the reception, after, but it's hard to do. He's everywhere, charming the old ladies, and grabbing food for Sam's relatives, and smiling and just being so dapper. And he keeps glancing at Kurt with those beautiful hazel eyes. It's too much, really, so Kurt mumbles an excuse to Mercedes, and walks into the hallway. He needs a minute alone, just one minute without feeling like his heart is being twisted in half.
Blaine, however, destroys all of that. He follows Kurt outside.
"Can we. . .can we talk?" he asks hesitantly. Kurt sighs, and refuses to look at him.
"I thought. . ." he shudders a little. "I thought that when we slept together, it meant something."
"It was just sex," Blaine says gently.
"Not to me," Kurt says.
"Kurt I. . .I didn't go there, meaning to sleep with you. But you were just sitting there, and your eyes were so big and blue, and your lips were so pink. . .and you kept making these noises, and they were so sexy, those little whimpers, and you were so beautiful. . ."
"So you had pity sex with me?" Kurt asks. "Is that what you're telling me?"
Blaine shakes his head. "I'm telling you. . .I"m really bad at romance, Kurt. I don't want to mess us up."
Kurt snorts, and throws his nose up in the air. "Really? Well guess what, Mr. Dapperpants, you did."
He strides back into the reception hall, nose held high. He's just in time, too, because Sam is standing and holding up his champagne glass. A click of the door behind Kurt tells him that Blaine has entered the room.
"I would like to have a toast, to Kurt and Blaine," Sam says. "Thank God that neither Mercedes nor I was attracted to either of them, or we wouldn't be here today."
Blaine chuckles a little at that, and nudges Kurt in the shoulder.
Kurt ignores him and stomps away.
Xxx
He doesn't talk to Blaine for a week, and it hurts. It doesn't help that Blaine keeps leaving him cute text messages, and messages on his voicemail. It doesn't help when he comes home one afternoon to see Blaine sitting outside his apartment, with his guitar in his lap. It doesn't help that Mercedes is worried about him, and Santana keeps asking who he's going to take to her New Year's Eve party. It doesn't help that he has to carry a Christmas tree home himself, remembering how Blaine had done it the year before. It doesn't help that nobody orders coffee for him. It certainly doesn't help that, against all odds, some band has done a cover of Candles and it nows plays incessantly on the radio.
Blaine starts leaving little serenades on his voicemail, and it's actually getting kind of annoying. A little bit because Kurt keeps having to delete the messages, but also because Blaine doesn't seem to pay any attention to the lyrics he sings. Some of the songs are break-up songs, some are love songs, one is a downright filthy sex song. He sings Disney songs, once, and Baby, It's Cold Outside.
That's when Kurt finally gives in and picks up the phone. "Hello," he says.
"Oh. . .oh, Kurt, hi!" Blaine says, sounding excited. Kurt can just picture him, hazel eyes wide open, tail practically wagging. "What's up?"
"What do you want, Blaine?"
"Nothing. . ." the other voice is quiet now, sounding almost a little uncertain. It doesn't sound like Blaine at all. "I just. . .I just wanted to say I'm sorry."
"Oh," Kurt says. "Well. . .thanks. I'm sorry, too."
"Yeah. . ." there's another uncomfortable silence, and Kurt considers hanging up. He's about to, when Blaine finally speaks again.
"What. . .what are you doing for New Year's Eve? Because last year we said. . .that is, if we were both single, we were going to. . .would you like to?"
"I can't do this," Kurt says. "I've been in love with you for two years, and I can't just be another notch on your bedpost, Blaine. I can't. I'm sorry, but I love myself too much to let you break my heart again. Good-bye."
Blaine doesn't call him again.
Xxx
It's New Year's Eve, and Kurt's at Santana's New Year's Eve party. It's absolutely horrible. Santana keeps shoving every gay guy at him, and Brittany keeps trying to get him to interrogate her cat. Mercedes and Sam are there, and that's nice, but they're still so sickeningly in love that it's a little painful to watch. He knows, objectively, that the party is just as good as it was the year before, but it seems more tawdry, somehow. Everyone is just getting drunk, and grinding up against everyone. Is this it? He wonders. Is there really no romance left in the world, anywhere? It's all just lust and sex. . .
"I'm going home," he tells Mercedes. She frowns at him.
"You'll never catch a taxi," she says, and Kurt knows she has a point. So he dances with the guy in the tweed jacket, and takes another sip of champagne. He considers calling Finn, or his dad, but they both have dates. He glances up at the clock and sighs.
It's almost midnight, and it's just too depressing to be in the middle of the party and have no one to kiss. So he goes up to Mercedes again.
"I'm really leaving," he says. "I can't. . .I just can't be here, and not have anyone to kiss at midnight. I'll just walk."
"I'll kiss you," Sam says, and Mercedes nods eagerly.
"It's fine," Kurt says wryly. "I'm a big boy. I'll call you tomorrow."
Leaving is easier said than done, apparently, and everyone's gathering to watch the ball drop by the time Kurt's reached the door. He just wants to leave, just wants to be gone, because it's all too depressing. He reaches out the door to open the door, but it's flung open before he gets the chance.
Blaine is standing there, and he looks awful. His eyes are shadowed, and his hair is sweaty. He's panting a little, and his nose and cheeks are bright red, probably from the cold. His jacket isn't buttoned, and he's panting just a little. He looks awful, but as bad as he looks, he's still the most beautiful man Kurt's ever seen.
"What are you doing here?"
"You move me, Kurt," Blaine says. "Not being able to talk to you. . .it was awful."
"That's nice," Kurt says, and tries to shove him out of the way before he bursts in to tears. "Excuse me."
"I've been doing a lot of thinking. I'm crazy about you."
Kurt freezes, his back to Blaine. He should just leave, he tells his feet. Keep walking. Because for two straight years, Blaine's been breaking his heart, and he shouldn't put up with it anymore. His traitorous feet don't listen to him, however, and he stays firmly planted in the doorway.
"What?"
"I love you. Say something."
"What. . .what do you want me to say?"
Blaine doesn't respond. Kurt turns around, and has to catch his breath for a moment, because Blaine's eyes are so wide. The dancing lights, which make everything look distorted and dirty, somehow make Blaine's eyes even more beautiful.
"I have to go," Kurt says, the words getting stuck in his throat. "I'm . . .I'm sorry, Blaine. I knows it's New Year's Eve, and I know you're lonely, but you can't just. . .you can't. . .this isn't how it works."
"I don't know how it works, Kurt," Blaine says. "I'm awful at romance, and I don't know how to fix this."
"I don't know, either," Kurt says. And he doesn't. He just knows that Blaine is his best friend, and he wants that back desperately. But he also feels betrayed, and used. He's only slept with two men in his entire life, and it felt awful when Blaine left in the morning and didn't call. It made him feel like. . .like a prostitute, or something, and he can't get over that.
He can't get over that he'd made love, and Blaine had just had sex.
"All I know is that I love you," Blaine says, reaching out and grabbing Kurt by the bicep. "I love the way that you don't show your teeth when you smile. I love how your eyes change from blue to grey to green, depending on whether you're happy or sad or being bitchy. I love how it takes you ten minutes to say a coffee order, and I love how you're so delighted when I pay, even though I pay every time. I love that I can talk to you about anything. I love how our hands fit together like they're meant to be, and I love the way you always make sure that my shoes match my belt and my scarf matches my socks. It's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Year's Eve. I came because you're my best friend, and I can't live without you. I came because I took out my credit card to buy dinner, and I saw a picture of you. And I realized. . .there you are. I've been looking for you forever. I've spent my whole life looking for you Kurt, and when I found you, I was too stupid to realize it, but now that I have, I want to start forever again. With you.
And then Kurt's eyes are brimming over, and he can barely even talk. He just grabs onto Blaine and pulls him close, and whispers in his ears. "I keep trying to get rid of you," he hisses. "After we drove to New York, and after that flight to Lima. But I just. . .I can't say good-bye to you."
Distantly, he realizes that in the background everyone is counting down to midnight. Blaine gently lifts his chin, and kisses him.
There are fireworks.
No, really, there are, from New Year's Eve. Everyone is cheering, and hugging, and suddenly the party doesn't seem tawdry or tacky at all, but rather glamorous and sophisticated and perfect.
Because Blaine loves him. And he loves Blaine.
Xxx
It takes five months to plan the wedding. Blaine jokes about it, then. How it only took them five months to get together. Kurt corrects him, with a pert "actually, twelve years and five months," but he's close enough. The wedding is perfect, with white roses and not a touch of baby's breath. Kurt spends all five months on it, and he feels incredibly proud.
Until he's walking down the aisle toward his fiancé. Because it all melts away, then. The flowers, the color scheme, the venue. . .all he sees, are smiling hazel eyes and a future of forever.