A/N: Hello my lovelies. This is the fic, the plot based on the song 'Christmas Wrapping' by The Waitresses, that has been taking over my brain for about... the past two weeks maybe. So, to anyone who reads me normally, I'm sorry. However, new chapters of everything are in the work, so just be a little more patient. To anyone that doesn't read me normally, feel free to do so and I apologize for my excessive, gratuitous author's notes. This fic is fully written, will be five chapters (each about five thousand words each) with an epilogue (the number of words I don't yet know. Without further ado, here is Christmas Wrapping. I hope you enjoy.

Winter 2016-2017

"Rachel, I don't even like skiing," Kurt argued, knowing it was hopeless. Juggling his phone and trying to cook the ridiculously challenging recipe he had decided to prepare for the first time he had seen Mercedes in six months was not as easy as he had thought it would be, Kurt decided as he grabbed the rosemary and almost dumped his phone in his pot in the process. "I certainly don't have the equipment for it."

"Come on, Kurt, it's almost Christmas!" Rachel replied, unusual happiness shining through her voice. She and Finn hadn't panned out, as Kurt had suspected they wouldn't since they tried to get married senior year, but she had a wonderful boyfriend who made her smile like crazy. Paul reminded him of a much nicer, less dramatic, and less narcissistic Jesse, and Rachel was head-over-heels in love with him. "Everyone's coming here for the holidays, and we're all going to have fun skiing slash snowboarding together. We'll have races and hot chocolate, and I'm sure you and us girls will spend most of our time in the lodge gossiping anyway! We have so much to catch up on."

"Well, since participating in the snowboard races seems to be the life course leading to an early death, I suppose gossiping in the lodge won't be too bad. Ski equipment is expensive though." Rachel scoffed before Kurt had even finished his sentence.

"Kurt, I know you're not hurting for money over there." Kurt sighed. She knew him too well. After three and a half very successful years at the New York Academy for Dramatic Arts, Kurt had worked as much of the Broad Way as possible before he realized he didn't want the frustration he was facing for his range to dictate his life, and he returned to working for Vogue's web site, Isabella still there and more than happy to have him back. Once he had progressed past intern, he found out how very lucrative that business was, and he was thriving. "Buying ski equipment won't be a big deal. Noah's coming here from LA, why don't you consult him?"

"No thanks, Rachel. I'll just go to the nearest ski equipment store and get ripped off. I dealt with Puck enough in high school." He was being sarcastic and Rachel knew it. Even though all of the New Directions had gone their separate ways, they still remained close and he was excited to see everyone.

"Fine, have it your way." Rachel cleared her throat and Kurt knew she was about to ask something uncomfortable. He knew Rachel better than he knew himself at this point, and vice versa. "I-I was, um, wondering if you're bringing anyone to the r-reunion? Just so I know the seating plan," she added quickly, and Kurt rolled his eyes. Years later, and Rachel still couldn't be tactful without stuttering.

"No, Rachel, I'm not bringing anyone," he said firmly, knowing this would develop into a conversation he really didn't want to have.

"No one since Adam? Really?" Rachel asked, and she sounded saddened. Kurt huffed at the name of his college boyfriend, who had turned out to be a cheater and a liar, despite how many years they had been together.

"Rachel, I'm perfectly happy alone, thank you. It's been a while since I was single, and I'm enjoying it. Adam and I were together for almost five years, I think I'll enjoy playing the field for a while. You were single for a while after you and Brody broke up sophomore year," Kurt pointed out, and Rachel sighed.

"I suppose you have a point, but I wish you had someone to make you as happy was I am, Kurt," Rachel said, sounding sincere.

"Rachel, I think that's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me that didn't contain the word 'um'," Kurt joked, making Rachel laugh in spite of herself. "And for right now, I make myself happy, and I'm very happy that everyone's coming to New York for Christmas. That's enough."

"Are you sure? Paul knows some guys-"

"Rachel, under no circumstances am I letting you set me up on a date. Do you remember the last time that happened?" During a quick break he and Adam had taken during his junior year at NYADA, Rachel tried to set him up with a guy who worked at her favorite sheet music store, who had turned out to be a religious wacko who had only wanted to save him.

"Abraham was just bad luck!" Rachel argued, but it was a moot point, and she knew it. Kurt had vowed once he returned from the date, drenched in holy water and irritated, that Rachel was never allowed to stick her ridiculously-Jewish nose in his dating life again. So far he had stuck to that promise pretty well, and he wasn't about to start now.

"Thanks, but no thanks, Rach. I'm happy, and I will go pick up ski equipment tomorrow." Kurt very carefully did not mention what he was up to that night. He and Mercedes needed some time to chat without her annoying but lovable presence, and if she knew she would show up with wine and insert herself into their bonding time.

"All right, sweetie. Goodbye love."

"Goodbye love," Kurt replied, the same ritual they had used since they were roommates.

He really should have consulted Puck, he realized as soon as he stepped into the Eastern Mountain Sports on the corner of Broadway and Spring Street and realized he had absolutely no idea what he was doing with any of the things in the store. He really should have listened to his step-brother more often when they were living together, Kurt decided as he looked around the store. Let's see, he needed a helmet, boots, skis, poles, and winter clothes, if they had them.

"You look a little lost." Kurt turned to meet his savior, and found a man with slicked-back, dark hair staring at him with big hazel eyes and raised eyebrows. "Walk into the wrong store?" Kurt decided not to take that as judgment.

"Do you work here?" the man laughed and shook his head.

"Not really, I just need to get new skis, mine are starting to wear. You look like you could use some help though, and the people that do work here are more than happy to give you the most expensive product they have, even if it isn't the best." Kurt tried to focus on the man's words and not how cute his smile was. What the heck? He wasn't a teenager anymore, why was he acting like one?

"Do they get commission or something?" the man nodded, rolling his eyes.

"The perfect way to corrupt your workers. Yes, they get commission on everything I think, or at least some kind of cut for the amount of expensive sales they make. So what are you looking for?" the man asked, glancing around the store.

"Everything," Kurt admitted. "My crazy high school friends decided we should go up north skiing before Christmas, neglecting the fact that most of us live in cities and thus have no skiing experience or equipment," Kurt said, rolling his eyes at his loveably insane former team members.

"So, boots, poles, skis, helmet, and you might want to stop by REI for the clothes. It's just up two blocks and down East Houston one, but it has much better prices on apparel. What size shoes do you wear?" the man asked, and Kurt tried not to blush as he answered.

"Eleven." To the man's credit, he just raised an eyebrow and consulted the chart on the wall before picking out a pair of boots. He didn't say anything.

"Here you go. These are the kind I used to have, they're durable but not too heavy, and they'll last you forever, so you don't have to come back here," the man's brow creased, "unless you're still growing. Try them on."

"I'm twenty-four," Kurt said indignantly, but it was hard to be indignant when he couldn't figure out how to open the damn boots the man had given him.

"Here," the man said, kneeling next to Kurt like he really did work there and quickly undoing the snaps on the boots, "and I'm sorry, but you do not look twenty-four."

"I know," Kurt said with a sigh, slipping his feet into the boots and finding them the perfect size. They weren't tight, but they wouldn't slide around on his feet either. "I still get carded everywhere."

"Take it as a compliment," the man said, showing Kurt how to unsnap and re-snap the boots.

"Your comment or getting carded?" Kurt asked as he successfully snapped up his boots for the first time.

"Both," the man said with a grin, and Kurt blushed again. He was never going to grow out of that, was he? "And with those boots, you need some skis. Do you have any preferences on the make or shape?" Kurt stared at him blankly. "Didn't think so. I'm guessing you're not the daredevil who's going to be taking on the biggest slopes either, so these should work," the man said, pulling some skis off the wall.

"So, do you cater to everyone who walks in here?" Kurt asked as the man adjusted the skis to fit the boots he had picked out.

"Only the cute ones," the man said with a smile, strapping Kurt to his new skis. "Perfect," he said appreciatively.

"Great, thanks," Kurt said, trying to stand up and quickly landing back on his butt, thankfully on the bench.

"I was talking about you, but don't try to stand in those," the man warned too late.

"Perhaps warn before flirting?" Kurt suggested, and the man chuckled.

"Too forward?" he asked, and Kurt smiled a little.

"Maybe. I don't even know your name," Kurt realized, feeling a little bit like an idiot.

"Blaine Anderson," the man introduced himself, "amateur songwriter, off-Broadway actor, and ski shop helper extraordinare." Kurt giggled at that.

"Kurt Hummel," he said in reply, "fashion columnist for Vogue online and hopeless case."

"I think those skis will work just fine for you, Kurt," Blaine said, getting back to their business. "You're what, five eleven?" he asked.

"Almost exactly."

"I worked wardrobe and set for a while before I was an actor. You have to be good at guessing accurate height and weight, or you will get slapped. Repeatedly," Blaine said with a laugh, answering Kurt's unasked question. "These poles should work for you then," he said, handing over a pair. "All you need now is a helmet."

"Are you going to try to guess my weight now?" Kurt teased as he unsnapped his boots from his feet and attempted to unsnap his boots from his skis.

"Nope," Blaine said with a laugh, looking over the helmets. "I've made that mistake before, not gonna happen again." Kurt giggled at that as Blaine picked a helmet off the rack. "Try this one," he said, putting the goggles up and helping Kurt get it on. "Fit?"

"Yep," Kurt said, feeling a little breathless this close to his... shopping partner, Kurt realized. Nothing else.

"Good," Blaine replied, but he sounded a little breathy too. "Red's your color," he commented as he pulled the goggles down, and Kurt felt the strong deja vu. "I think that'll do it," he decided once he had adjusted the goggles for Kurt's face. Kurt pulled the helmet off himself as Blaine gathered his purchases.

"Was there a reason you're in the store?" Kurt asked as he realized the only things Blaine had even looked at were for him. Blaine paused.

"Crap... there was," Blaine said with a laugh. "I'm sure I'll remember it once you stop distracting me," he teased, and Kurt blushed again. "Doesn't really matter what I was here to buy, I'm meeting a friend."

"Oh," Kurt replied eloquently as his heart sunk. "I see."

"A female friend," Blaine said, and Kurt felt even more stupid." Of course, Blaine had been just teasing. Sadistically, cruelly, unnecessarily teasing.

"I see," he repeated, trying not to sound surly.

"No, Kurt, I mean just a friend," Blaine clarified again, making Kurt's heart leap up from his toes and stick somewhere in his throat.

"Oh," Kurt said again, but in a much brighter tone, and Blaine chuckled.

"Yeah," Blaine said with a smile. "Full disclosure: I'm gay, single, and very interested." Wow, Blaine put it all out there.

"Full disclosure?" Kurt asked and Blaine nodded. "That makes two of us," he replied, pushing the buzzer and waiting to finally see someone who actually worked there.

"What can I get for you?" the rather sour-looking cashier asked, eying Kurt and Blaine flirting with an openly-disgusted face. "This'll be it?"

"Yes," Kurt replied. Meanwhile, Blaine had stolen a Sharpie from their jar, making the cashier glare at him, and was in the process of stealing Kurt's hand.

"This," he said as he wrote on the hand he had stolen, "is my number, in case you believe in chance encounters." Kurt didn't stop to question the cheesy, old-fashioned, 'write my number on your hand' stunt.

"That'll be nine hundred and ten dollars," the cashier said loudly, obviously trying to break up their little exchange. Blaine gaped, clearly not having thought about the price, while Kurt handed over the money and picked up his new objects.

"I'm starting to," Kurt replied to Blaine, taking the bag that contained his boots and helmet, grabbing his skis and poles, and heading outside.

"This isn't as awful as I had imagined it," Kurt admitted as he sipped hot chocolate with Rachel, Mercedes, Tina, Santana, Brittany, Quinn, and Sugar at the lodge. While there had been other members of the Glee club while some of them (Tina, Brittany, and Sugar) were there, this was the Nationals winning team, and the closest portion of the New Directions.

"And you told me you didn't have ski equipment," Rachel said, tutting. "This stuff is gorgeous, and red has always been your color," she commented, indicating his helmet.

"I didn't have ski equipment. I got this all last week, after we talked," Kurt said, and he couldn't help but smile as he thought back to his afternoon at the sports store.

"You're smiling," Quinn teased. "Spill." The lights in the lodge glinted off of the rock on her finger as she took a sip of her hot cocoa. Despite all her troubles and bad romantic decisions, after she graduated from Yale as a happy, single, magna cum laude, she had met a wonderful man who was a neurosurgeon, and their date was set for a year from now, in the spring.

"I may have met a guy there," Kurt admitted, and the girls giggled and wolf-whistled, making him blush. "Ladies, calm yourselves."

"What do you mean you may have met a guy there?" Mercedes asked, nudging him. She teased him constantly about guys, despite her equally single status.

"I want the story," Sugar sang out excitedly, and she had clearly been taking vocal lessons from Rory, who had just moved to the States after college and rekindled their relationship. She and Artie had only lasted a few weeks after their graduation.

"Just that I haven't talked to him since and we didn't actually plan anything," he replied to Mercedes. "And there's no story. We met, he helped me pick out my ski stuff, and we parted ways."

"Oh, sweetie, he worked there?" Rachel asked, using her pitying voice again.

"No, actually, Blaine was just there to get some new skis and help out the man who had absolutely no idea what he was doing. He's actually an off-Broadway actor," Kurt replied, and he couldn't help but sound a little smug.

"Wait, Blaine Anderson?" Rachel asked, smiling.

"You know him?" Tina asked.

"I've worked with him before, but he probably wouldn't remember me. He is fine," Rachel said, nudging Kurt. "Good choice."

"So, plans to get a piece of that?" Santana asked, and her vulgar attitude had cooled a little since she and Brittany had eloped her junior year of college, but she was still Santana, just a monogamous version.

"I told you, we didn't make any plans," Kurt repeated.

"Do you know anything about him?" Tina asked. "Where he lives, where he works, what show he is doing?"

"I have his phone number," Kurt replied as the girls slowly picked apart his fairytale notions. "What am I doing?" he asked with a sigh. "I'm way too old to be making up relationships in my head."

"Can you do that?" Brittany muttered to Santana, who just kissed her softly in reply.

"No!" Rachel exclaimed suddenly. "You can't give up on this, Kurt!" Everyone at the table was taken aback at her reaction.

"Crazy white girl over there," Mercedes said, gesturing to Rachel, "who is no longer allowed to drink coffee before we leave if this is what happens, may have a point. What's the harm in chasing? You like him, at least what you know of him, you know how to get in touch with him, maybe you can see where this goes."

"You should find out what show he's in," Tina added. "It'll give you a chance to find out a little more about him."

"Wait, you said he gave you his number, right?" Quinn asked for confirmation, and Kurt nodded. "Did you give him yours?" Kurt shook his head. "So that makes you the one who's not calling him," Quinn said, and Kurt hadn't thought of it that way.

"Relax, Quinn, it was only last week. Hummel doesn't want to seem that desperate for dick," Santana commented with a roll of her eyes, and didn't repent when everyone scoffed at her and Rachel made a face.

"I'll call him tomorrow," Kurt decided firmly. "Meanwhile, I think we have a rant to hear about Paul, Mercedes to tease for being single, Tina, Santana, and Brittany to make fun of for being married ladies, Quinn to nag about the planning of her wedding, and Sugar to investigate on how things are doing with our naturalizing Rory." Rachel started in on her diatribe almost immediately after Kurt had stopped talking.

Three o'clock, Kurt had decided, was the best time to call someone. It's after lunch, but before dinner, there's no chance that Blaine's asleep, but he wasn't going to interrupt anything either, probably. Kurt really hadn't planned this well, he decided once Blaine answered and Kurt could hear the madness that was rehearsal behind him.

"Hello? Who's this?" Blaine asked, and Kurt almost replied testily before he realized Blaine would have no way of knowing that it was him.

"Hi, Blaine," Kurt said softly, then, realizing that probably didn't help, "it's Kurt."

"So I realized," Blaine said, and Kurt could tell by his voice that he was smiling. "Your voice is pretty distinctive, you know." He had a point. "Pretty and distinctive," he corrected himself, making Kurt smile.

"I just realized I had never called you, so..." Really? That was the best he could come up with?

"I'm glad you did, but as you might have guessed by the cacophony behind me, I'm a little busy right now. I'm at rehearsal," Blaine explained, as if Kurt hadn't realized that.

"I know," Kurt replied before he thought about it. "I mean, I used to be on Broadway, so the sounds and the time of day led to one logical conclusion," he explained before Blaine could accuse him of being a stalker.

"You were on Broadway?" Blaine asked, and he sounded surprised. "I'm jealous, I keep getting callbacks that lead nowhere."

"I could give you some references if you'd like," Kurt said, and he hadn't thought that one through either. He didn't know how good Blaine was. "Of course, I would have to come see your show first, to see how talented you are," he added, realizing the excellent opportunity he had given himself.

"Sounds good," Blaine said, obviously excited. "I'm Roger in RENT at New World Stages. That's-"

"West 50th between 8th and 9th," Kurt finished his sentence. "I know."

"I look forward to seeing you there... well, here," Blaine said with a laugh. "However, I should go, or I might not have a show to perform in. I'll see you soon?"

"Definitely," Kurt replied before Blaine hung up.

"RENT?" Rachel asked as they walked through the doors of the New World Stages that Friday. "Would you like to explain to me why you're taking me to a show I've not only seen a hundred times, but performed in on Broadway, the day before Christmas Eve?"

"Because," Kurt replied as they took their front-row seats, extremely happy with the connections he still had, "Blaine happens to be staring in this particular rendition of RENT." Rachel squeaked, excited as he was.

"I could have told you how talented he is," Rachel commented once Kurt had explained his offer to Blaine to give him references.

"You really don't see the point here, do you?" Kurt asked as they waited for the show to start.

"Of course I do. You're giving yourself an excuse to stare at him," Rachel accused, and Kurt just smiled as the lights went down.

By the time the show was over, Kurt was completely enamored, not only with Blaine, but with his voice. He was incredible, and charismatic, and the fact that he kept getting dead-end callbacks only emphasized how inbred the system had become. He could do an amazing job in any Broadway play he chose, but he didn't know the right people. Well, now he did. He knew Kurt.

"Are we stage-dooring?" Rachel asked, "I really don't want to get hounded by paparazzi." Since when?

"Oh come on, spoil sport," Kurt said, dragging her out of her seat as fast as it was possible in the crowds of people trying to leave the theatre. By the time they got to the stage door, half of the actors were gone, and Kurt didn't see Blaine anywhere.

"You did tell him you were coming tonight, right?" Rachel asked, looking around like Kurt was.

"I wanted to surprise him," Kurt said in way of answering, and Rachel rolled her eyes.

"He's the Patti LuPone of Off-Broadway," Rachel said, pulling Kurt away from the door. "He's always in a hurry, and if you didn't tell him you were going to be here, he's not here."

"Drat," Kurt muttered as he and Rachel left the theatre, headed for Kurt's apartment for their usual after-show nightcap.

"Your house is always madness at Christmas," Quinn commented as she sat at Kurt's kitchen table, sipping her coffee and watching with entertainment as he tried to take down all of his extensive Christmas decorations.

"I love Christmas. Sue me," Kurt replied as he wrestled with the evergreen bough on top of his cabinets, not even bothering to worry about how rickety the chair he was standing on was. "Decorating is half the holiday."

"Maybe for you, but some of us enjoy it for it's more spiritual roots," Quinn said, continuing to watch and not offering any help.

"Yes, yes, I know you and Dr. Christian spend all of your Christmases at mass, and I applaud your devotion to a useless task," Kurt said sassily as he managed to get the bough down.

"Very funny. And his name's not Christian," Quinn said, but Kurt ignored her.

"I put an angel on the top of my tree, and that's about as religious as Christmas in this apartment is going to get," Kurt said firmly, deciding his tree would be his next task as he did. He pulled the empty ornament boxes out from under the cabinet and began filling them with all the ornaments he had accumulated, half of which were probably ones Finn had given Rachel. He had always tended to forget that she's Jewish.

"The party was fun though, even if I have a little bit of an eggnog-headache." The reason Quinn was gracing his kitchen table with her beauty was the amount she had drank at the Christmas party Kurt held that year, and her subsequent lack of ability to get home due to the fact her future husband was two hundred miles away at their home in Providence.

"No one forced it down your throat, Q," Kurt commented, and she smiled at that.

"Sadly, alcohol has always been one of my weaknesses," she reminisced, fingers dancing around the rim of her cup. "Thank you for letting me stay here."

"My door is always open," Kurt offered, because as much as he teased her, he really did love Quinn. 'I feel it in my fingers, I feel it in my toes; love is all around me, and so the feeling grows,' Quinn's phone rang out before she picked it up.

"Hi, sweetie." Kurt was there immediately, pressing his ear to the back of her phone. Despite how much Quinn raved about this man she loved, they had never seen much of him, and the fact that Dr. Mystery had difficult cases around Christmas (because people were bolder when there was a potential of a Christmas miracle) prevented him from coming to Kurt's annual Christmas party every year.

"Lucy, how are you?" Kurt gaped at Quinn, who waved her hand at him frantically, pushing him out of their conversation.

"I'm fine. Unfortunately a little hungover, but our lovely host allowed me to stay the night." Kurt couldn't hear what he said next, but Quinn laughed and answered, "No, he's gay," standing up to take the call in private. Spoil sport.

Speaking of calls, Kurt had some to make, starting with Blaine. Before Kurt got the chance, his phone started singing out the lyrics to Leave Me Alone, which meant Finn was calling.

"Hey bro, did Quinn get home okay? I'm at her apartment and she's not answering." Kurt rolled his eyes at his step-brother.

"She's here at mine, on the phone with her beloved Doctor Tye M. Lockwood. Please tell me you're not endeavoring to go down that road again, with an engaged woman no less." Finn just laughed, he was so accustomed to Kurt's ribbing for his attitude towards women in high school.

"No, Mercedes just called me asking if I had heard from her, and I volunteered to drive over here because out of all of us, I think I'm the least hungover." Finn, luckily, had not followed in his mentor Mr. Schuester's habits, and avoided drinking like the plague.

"Well, she's healthy and located, so don't you worry too much."

"Awesome," Finn said, still his favorite word, 'cool' being a close second. "So, there's this chick..."

"Absolute madness," Kurt announced as he collapsed on the couch with Rachel, and he could tell by the bags underneath her eyes that she agreed.

"I know. It's January, why is it suddenly an appealing month for auditions and changes? It's cold, it's one of the less busy months on Broadway, there's no reason my life should be stressful right now," Rachel complained, and Kurt knew it was his job to point out the holes in her argument.

"Yes, but when Broadway's not busy, that's the perfect time to try out new things on stage and for directors to change from the single-minded focus necessary for producing a show to a multi-tasking frame of mind to prepare for the next," Kurt pointed out, and Rachel stuck her tongue out at him. "I, however, am truly mysteriously swamped. It's not a change in season, there's no big deals going on right now at Vogue, and it's not a big sales month, yet suddenly Isabelle's turning up the heat on the employees. Not me, specifically, but I'm too nice, and I've ended up helping out everyone else with the work they can't manage because of the new rules. It's ridiculous. The only place she hasn't turned up the heat is in the actual office, it's freezing in there."

"You should stop being so nice," Rachel pointed out, "and maybe the reason Isabelle's putting pressure on her employees is she's getting pressure from upstairs for the exact reason that it's not a big sales month. Maybe they're trying to increase their quarter one income."

"Sometimes I hate you so much," Kurt replied. He couldn't believe it was only mid-January.

"Did you hear that Blaine got cast in Avenue Q for next season?" Rachel queried as they relaxed on the couch, both freezing, stressed, and sore. "It's still Off-Broadway, but it might be a swing season." Kurt would never admit to it later, but he definitely said a bad word and got off the couch faster than he ever had before during one of his and Rachel's relaxation and bitching sessions. "What?" Rachel asked, obviously mystified, but too tired to care.

"I forgot to call in old favors for Blaine," Kurt replied, and Rachel groaned.

"I thought you did that a billion years ago!" she said with her usual drama, but he ignored her.

"The last time I thought about it was after the Christmas party, but I got so distracted by Quinn and then Dr. Lockwood called and then Finn called, looking for Quinn and wanting lady advice, and it completely slipped my mind." Kurt dug through his bag in search of his iPhone. "Shoot, where is it?"

"It's out here on the table, sweetie," Rachel answered his rhetorical question, and Kurt groaned as he realized exactly how absentminded he had become of late. What else had he forgotten about? "Who's Dr. Lockwood? Is there something you need to tell me?" Rachel asked, bits of concern seeping through her fatigue.

"Doctor Tye M. Lockwood is Quinn's fiance, or should I call her Lucy, as he does," Kurt said, answering Rachel's question and revealing the little tidbit about their relationship that was really the only thing he knew. Quinn liked her privacy, and in Providence, she got it.

"Really?" Rachel asked, and when he made some noise that she took as a yes, she said, "Good. I'm glad she's getting over the trauma of her childhood and starting to accept that she's Lucy Quinn Fabray, she's been through a lot in her life, but she's come out stronger for it."

"Rachel, stop talking. You get philosophical when you're tired. Take a nap, I need to make these phone calls," Kurt ordered as he dug around his bookshelf for the address book he had used when he was on Broadway. He had deleted all the numbers from his phone as soon as his final show closed, and he had been hoping he would never need them again.

"Top shelf, between Harry Potter five and six," Rachel muttered helpfully after yawning, settling in to nap on his couch.

"You can nap in your own home, you know," Kurt offered, but Rachel was already asleep by the time he did. "Why do I love her?" he asked himself as he dialed one of the directors he had really gotten to know, the one who considered Kurt his pupil. Let the games begin.

Rachel was the one who reminded him about the RENT playbill, only a week later. He still had his, not being that disorganized, but he hadn't thought to look Blaine up in it either. He flipped through until he found Who's Who in the Cast and began to read about his mystery ski shop helper.

Blaine Anderson (Roger) Off-Broadway: Much Ado About Nothing (Benedick), The Last Five Years (James), Small Engine Repair (Frank), A Family for All Occasions (Henry). Blaine attended New York University, writes songs, and would like to thank his brother Cooper.

Not as much as Kurt had hoped for, but surprising nonetheless. A fairly impressive resume, and no mention of his parents, which was a minority as far as the bios seemed to go. Everyone dedicated their performances to their parents, either by name or generically, except for Blaine. Kurt wondered, but decided to let it go. He hardly knew the man, he couldn't go delving into his secrets, as much as he wanted to.

However, he could find out a little bit more about Blaine by investigating his co-workers. Despite her lack of major parts on Broadway (she had been completely overshadowed in the Addams Family, and Rachel Potter made a much better Wednesday), Krysta Rodriguez had been in the business for years, and they had inevitably crossed paths.

He did not feel creepy for doing this, he reminded himself firmly as he dialed Krysta's number, he was just doing as Mercedes had told him to. He was chasing. Not stalking. Chasing. "Hello? Krysta's familiar, perfectly unaccented voice broke him out of his musings.

"Krysta! Hey, it's Kurt. I'm... talent-scouting," he lied, "and I was wondering about someone you're currently in RENT with. Someone by the name of Blaine Anderson."

Krysta's first response was to laugh. "Talent-scouting, huh? What, those that can't do, teach? Subtle, Hummel, but it would be subtler if he hadn't been bragging about the connections you were going to get him around Christmas. You want the full story on Blaine?"

"Yes, please," Kurt admitted, fully aware that his covert plan had backfired on him.

"He's a great guy. Charismatic, friendly, talented, smart, witty, one of the few people on this earth who truly enjoy mornings," Krysta ranted. "If you're interested, you're barking up the right tree, Kurt, he's much better than that Adam asshole."

"I'm pretty sure anyone's better than Adam," Kurt admitted, and Krysta actually clapped for him on speaker phone when Kurt told her they had broken up a while back.

"Good, finally someone nailed some sense into you," Krysta said. "I hope I'm not being unintentionally literal."

"Krysta!" Kurt protested, but they were both laughing.

"You're welcome for the low-down, be-atch, come visit soon, I miss you," Krysta said, making childish kissing noises into the phone as she said goodbye.

"Later, Rodriguez."

A/N: So, how'd you guys like the first chapter? All this stuff about the process of Broadway that I mentioned isn't really real (swing seasons or whatever), I made them up for the purpose of the story. This is un-beat'd, so any spelling/grammar errors are on me, and, even though I've read this a hundred thousand times looking for errors, I was typing rather frantically when I first wrote it, and I'm sure said errors exist. Oh, and I made up a name for the boyfriend from A Family for All Occasions since the character's name had not been released at the time I Googled it.

Songs used/mentioned:
'Love is All Around' by Wet Wet Wet
'Leave Me Alone' by Michael Jackson

Reviews are Love.