Title: And So We Run
Author:
Claddagh Ring

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.

"I'm an insecure, neurotic control freak on crack." - properly translates into please review because I love you.


RACHEL
"They're idiots!" Blaine insisted, emphasizing his point by sloshing a good bit of dark ale onto the counter. He had passed his sobriety limit over three drinks ago and he had the vague impression that his words were coming out in a slur but he was encouraged on by Rachel's fervent nods of agreement. "Complete, total, inexhaustible morons."

"I know, right?" Rachel cried with a slap to his shoulder, a usually friendly gesture that in her drunken state, sent a stinging flare across his nerves. "I'm Rachel freaking Berry!"

"Fucking Berry," he corrected with a tip of his glass. "You are Rachel Barbara Fucking Berry. You sleep in sheets with gold stars on them. You know the entire libretto to Le Miz in french. You have two gay dads! You are fucking Broadway and if those pissant casting directors don't know it, then they just need to take a swan dive off stage left to kiss my ass."

"Blaine!" Rachel giggled into her extremely bright pink cosmopolitan that matched her flushed cheeks as she looked around the room quickly. "Lots of important people drink here; you can't just say things like that."

"What, am I wrong? Hey, Marco, you know what I'm talking about," he directed towards the bartender heading their way. "You've heard her sing," he said as Rachel buried her face in her hands. "They heard her sing and didn't cast her. They're idiots, right?"

"Absolutely," Marco the bartender answered, exchanging Blaine's beer for a water which Blaine looked at with sour disappointment, but didn't protest. The only reason they were allowed to drink there was because Marco didn't mind serving them as long as they were quiet about it. It also helped that Marco seemed to developed an interest in Rachel and she was quick figure out that there was a direct flirting to alcohol ratio in their interactions. So she was always sure to be friendly around him, though she didn't mind so much: he was an aspiring actor as well and his experience with bit roles in "off-off-way-off" Broadway was extremely valuable to her.

Marco leaned casually against the bar, nudging the glass towards Blaine while he continued speaking to Rachel. "Struck out again kid?"

"Unfortunately, my talents have yet to be recognized," Rachel confirmed, abandoning her own drink so Blaine didn't feel so bad for being cut off. It would do them both good to sober up as neither of them had money for a cab ride home, having spent it all in an effort to drown Rachel's sorrows. Her dreams of instant Broadway superstardom hadn't exactly taken off in the whirlwind she imagined. In fact, to say they had even started was probably stretching the truth and while after a year, she was used to the audition grind, she was forced to admit that she was nothing more than a nineteen year old dreamer fresh off her freshman year in college. In the big city of New York, girls like her were plentiful, no matter how unique she insisted she was. Most days she could take it all in stride, but there was only so many times she could hear that she wasn't good enough or experienced enough, or that she didn't look or sound a certain way and everything she prided herself on wasn't enough.

The thing was, she knew she was enough. It was just a matter of finding the right person to recognize that, at the right time, on the right stage. Her defeat was only momentary and yes, every now and then, she would give into the wallowing pit of self-despair that welled up in her after every failed audition, but she knew how to pull herself out. If she had faced this kind or rejection in high school, she would still be in Lima but if there was one thing she'd learned in her first year in the city, it was how to stay confident. Still, it didn't hurt to hear the same confidence from other people.

"But they will be," Blaine remarked, slinging his arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. His loose curls ticked her forehead as she leaned hers against his. She smiled brightly at her best friend, pivoting in her seat to give him a proper hug. He laughed as she kissed him on briefly on the cheek before covering the spot with her hand – a tradition they'd started on her graduation day, "so you can use it when you need it," he'd said and while they both knew it was corny, it had stuck with them.

There was a lot about the two of them that had stuck. She never expected to remain so close to Blaine after she and Kurt started NYADA, especially when the distance between Kurt and Blaine had proved more than either of them were prepared for. Phone calls were missed and texts left unanswered until midterms week when Kurt announced in a stress-induced frenzy that he had broken up with Blaine two weeks prior. Yet somehow, despite the awkward months that followed, Rachel and Blaine had remained in fairly constant contact and when she returned to Ohio for the holidays, he literally swept her off her feet in the street when they finally reunited.

They didn't talk about Kurt or her own unraveling relationship with Finn. He wanted to hear everything about her life in college and the guys he was convinced were falling over themselves to get at her. He laughed freely at her subway horror stories, teased her when she exaggerated how horrid some of her classmates and professors were. In the back of her mind, she guessed he should have been miserable but there was a light in his eyes, an easiness to his smile and a spring to his step that belied that. The worries she'd had for him – that admittedly stemmed from her worries for Kurt – faded away.

She wasn't able to go back home with Kurt over spring break, but she spent the better half of the week talking to Blaine on the phone about his own impending move to New York. She was surprised he still intended to go through with it, even though the plan was left over from the one's he and Kurt had made together, but he insisted that New York was just one in a long list of cities he intended on residing in. And as they spoke, Rachel realized this was the first she'd ever heard of Blaine's future plans, as vague as they sounded with only a list of travels and no actual career to sustain it. But he was passionate and earnest and the fact that he wanted her to be a part of it excited her to no end.

She felt awful for missing his graduation, even though he assured her it was a non-event and she could make it up to him in less than a month when he finally packed everything up and moved to the city. Kurt shared her exhilaration, though to a lesser extent she felt. He and Blaine had started rebuilding their bridges and while she was sure Kurt was hoping to eventually rekindle their lost romance, she wasn't convinced it was in Blaine's plans. When she tried to ask him about, he ended up evading the conversation.

Her jaw had dropped when she finally, after seven months, laid eyes on him and the only coherent thought she had was that Senior Year had done right by Blaine Anderson. He was almost unrecognizable without his slicked back hair, bow ties, and suspenders. His hair fell in a natural curl that she'd never seen before, sweeping over his that looked shockingly golden when contrasted with his simple white v-neck shirt and slouchy jeans. She'd never seen him so under-dressed, but it suited him. It was in complete sync with the way he carried himself; his shoulders were held back with confidence, his stride purposeful and the light and ease and overall free attitude she'd seen over Christmas had locked in. There was a swell of pride in her as she embraced him because this was her Blaine.

And now, just over two months later, she couldn't recall ever feeling closer to anyone, and not only because he had somehow managed to lay across his own stool and rest his head on her lap. Her short skirt left her legs bare, but he didn't seem to notice and kept chatting away amicably as he stared up at her. Marco laughed at whatever he'd said and Rachel threw in a slight giggle of her own, even though she wasn't entirely sure what she was laughing about.

"You two better get out of here," Marco said suddenly, straightening up and in an instant, her forgotten drink disappeared under the bar. She swiveled around just enough to see the bar's owner walk in the door. Marco may not have minded serving them, but the boss did. Rachel hastily shoved Blaine off her lap; he landed rather gracefully and stood up, only swaying to the left in the slightest way. Marco took the rest of what they owed him and he ushered them out the side door before the owner had made it halfway across the room.

"I'll see you guys around," Marco said in departure. "And Rachel? You really are going to make it out there someday."

"I know," she responded with a hug. "Thanks Marco."

Blaine was waiting for her at the end of the dark alley, fumbling and cursing at something in his pocket, and let out a triumphant shout as he extracted his ipod from it. He unwound the headphones, offered her one which she took and they started their long walk back to her overpriced studio apartment that was barely more than a closet, but it was a far better alternative than having to endure the nightmare dorm rooms for another year. But since she was on the top floor, she did have easy access to the roof and on the warm summer nights, it wasn't uncommon for her and her guests to use it as their own private lounge area.

"Johnny what's the deal boy?" Blaine sang loudly, garnering a few strange looks as the walked through the crowd, but it didn't faze him at all. A year ago, Rachel might have even blamed the alcohol for his behavior, but having walked this same path with him several times singing the latest Katy Perry or classic Disney songs, she knew this was something he would've – and had – done even sober.

"Why do you have this on here?" she laughed as his headphone fell out.

"Because it's pure eighties awesome," he explained before he launched into the chorus, twirling her around in the street. Her own headphone fell out, but she preferred Blaine's voice in any case.

"You are ridiculous," she gasped as they reached her apartment building. She started digging for her keys as Blaine herded her through the door and towards the elevator which she prayed wasn't out of order this week. A sigh of relief escaped her lips when the up button lit up and the doors opened without any suspicious whirring or flickering lights

"You love me," Blaine asserted, catching her by her waist and pulling her into the lift. He stumbled slightly and she ended up pressed into the far corner, trapped between the grimy metal and his impossibly warm body. Heat radiated off him like he had his own personal sun and it was seeping into her. She didn't mind that exactly; after all it wasn't the first time they'd been as close as this. It was familiar, comforting, even if the heat was just a combination of intoxication and exposure from their walk.

"Maybe so," Rachel said, though she was finding it hard to sound stern with him standing so close, smirking at her while still managing to look like a kicked puppy. She lifted a finger and placed it on the tip of his nose, tapping the edge of it with every word, "but that doesn't excuse how completely and utterly ridiculous you are."

He watched her movements like a hawk and as she lifted her finger once more, his chin jutted upwards, capturing her fingertip between his teeth with a gentle nip. It didn't hurt, but she was shocked nonetheless. Because despite their touchy tendencies towards each other, Blaine had never done anything like this. Her finger in his mouth, she couldn't help that it felt intimate. If he would just let go, then they could laugh it off, but he didn't. He was even closer now and she had at some point unconsciously aligned her hips to match his. His hand was secure at the small of her back and his chest hitched with an unused breath. She matched his with one of her own as he tongue flicked out around her captured skin.

She could see his eyes darken as he leaned towards her, finally letting her hand drop from his lips. It didn't fall far, only to the middle of his chest and while she was debating whether or not to push him away, he muttered, "you taste awesome".

And then his lips were on hers in a way that was strictly not platonic, a way that was strictly not them. It was the shock, she reasoned later, that let her mouth fall open the way it did, inviting him in. It was the the lack of oxygen that left her panting, not the actual kiss. The heat of his hands on her skin under her shirt only felt good because she was in dire need of a hot oil massage. Because that was the rational, logical response for when you found yourself drunkenly making out with your gay best friend.

It wasn't because he left her breathless, or that everywhere he touched her felt like trailing fire. It wasn't the way he nipped at her bottom lip, or the way his tongue caressed the small injury. It wasn't the low groan in the back of his throat as she tugged at his hair. It wasn't the increased urgency in his kiss and the ever-building need she felt deep in her chest, burrowing it's way down her body. It wasn't him hard, pressed against her bare inner thigh.

They managed to get off the elevator in a tangle of limbs and she pressed his back against the door. It swung open and she cursed as they fell to the floor. A small part of herself chided her for not locking up when she left that morning, but mostly she was focused on the fact that she was straddling Blaine's hips in her very short skirt as he kicked the door closed. She bent forward to kiss him and he let out a deep moan, the cords of his neck tight. It took a moment to register on her, but that small movement, the little twist of her own hips had meant she was literally grinding against his core and if she thought he'd been hard before, she was sorely mistaken.

It was kind of amazing to her honestly, because he wasn't supposed to react this way to her. He was meant to be decidedly turned off by this, but that was clearly not the case. "Are you uncomfortable?" she whispered, her hair falling around them, trailing her hand slowly down his chest. He made to kiss her but she pulled back, just out of his reach, granting him a coy smile. Her fingers snapped the the button of his jeans open and he merely nodded, eyes on her hands as they disappeared under the denim. His head feel back with a resounding crack against the concrete floor. His hips gave an involuntary shudder and arched upwards until her hands. She liked the way it felt. She liked the way he responded to her. It was frightening in a way; if they did this, it could potentially ruin everything. She could let herself out of the moment, over-think this, but she knew enough about her own body to know that she wanted this, and enough about a male's body to know that he did too. At the very least, on a physical function, he wanted it. He wanted her.

So she let instinct take over as she leaned down to kiss him. He met her halfway.

-:-

It was terribly cliché but she couldn't help the thought from crossing her mind: he seemed to glow under the soft light of the sunrise. Blaine was sound asleep, curled up on his side, sheets tangled about his waist. Seeing him this way, Rachel let herself feel the things she might have felt for him if they'd met in another life. Somewhere they might have stood a real chance; a world where they could have the nights and the days as well. But in this world, reality rose with the sun and it was a harsh reminder that she had quite possibly made the worst mistake she'd ever made.

She slept with Blaine. He'd been drunk – and she'd been drunk on a momentary fantasy – and it didn't matter that he'd reciprocated because he would wake up, head pounding, groggy, and hungover. She could already see the regret fill his eyes as the pieces of last night fell into place. She wondered if it would look anything like her own. She could hear him in her head, trying to explain how much she meant to him, that he loved her and would always love her, but not in that way. It struck her how familiar this sounded to her; how it was everything any guy had ever said her her when he didn't need her anymore. Even in her head, being rejected left it's sting.

Coming from Blaine, she knew she wouldn't be able to take it. She would know he wasn't lying to her or letting her down easy. He cared too much about her to withhold truths like this from her and it was his sincerity she was dreading most. Because at least with the others, she could hear the dishonesty in their words and she could leave thinking she was better off. It wouldn't be like that with him. She feared a part of her would die if their friendship did because of one – though technically several – stupid inebriated mistake.

"Just pretend it never happened," she nodded resolutely to herself as she plodded to the kitchenette and started brewing a pot of tea.. She was an actress after all and if she couldn't convince the people closest to her in believing what she wanted, then she had no business being one. "Think of it as your first practical examination."

While he slept, she tried to persuade herself that it would be easy and had very nearly succeeded, she thought, until she heard him stir. With a sneaking peek over her shoulder, she saw him sit up in her bed. He scratched the back of head and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm, blinking in the sunlight steadily streaming in from the nearby window. His bare knee slipped out from under the sheet and she reminded herself that he was still naked and it wouldn't do to brazenly stare at him in that state. At least not this morning; it would only embarrass them both further.

"Morning," he said behind her, his voice taking on a gravelly quality she'd never head in him before.

"Good morning," she said, sounding a bit too chipper to even her ears. Still, she plastered on her brightest, most innocent smile and turned around to offer him a cup of tea. Because it's what she would have done on a normal morning, to any guest who had stayed over, and if she was going to pretend that everything was normal and last night hadn't happened, then she was going to do the things she always did.

She nearly dropped the cup when she realized Blaine hadn't bothered to get dressed past slipping his boxers on. He sat, bare-chested, armed, legged, everything at her meager kitchen table, smiling at her like it was the most natural thing in the world. Her eyes widened and she whirled around quickly, unable to stop the small squeak from escaping her lips or the blush creeping across her cheeks.

"Rachel?" he asked, clearly worried.

"Ah- ar- are you hungry?" she hated herself for stammering, for losing her facade so easily, but she hadn't expected him to be so casual. She expected remorse, regret, shame and instead he was prancing around in his underwear and grinning like he wasn't troubled at all.

"Hey," he said, causing her to jump.

She just needed to start talking. Anything would do. Anything that meant he didn't get to talk, because she wasn't prepared with an answer yet. "I don't really have much to eat," she began rambling, "but I'm sure there's something I could make. Or we could go out to that diner across the street and get -"

She lost complete track of what she was saying, just letting the words tumble out to fill the void. She could hear him trying to interrupt, but she was determined not to let him, not until she got a handle on the situation again. "A situation that could have been avoided entirely if he'd thought to put on a damn shirt", she though bitterly. "He's ruining everything just sitting there like that.

"RACHEL!" he yelled finally and she fell silent. Slowly she turned to face him, looking at a spot just just over his shoulder, afraid to look at him.

"What?" she breathed hesitantly.

When he didn't answer right away, curiosity got the better of her and she risked a glance towards him. His eyes were there the meet hers, though sadly. The corners of his mouth turned down and it was very much the image she'd conjured in her head in the early hours, but it wasn't in the same context. Because he didn't look sad about what had happened. He looked sad about what has happening now, in the present, at that very moment. "Are we really going to act like nothing happened?" he finally asked.

"So he did remember," she thought, her shred of hope slipping through her fingers.

"Yes," she replied aloud before she could stop herself, like a script she had practiced. His jaw tensed and set into a straight line, but gave no other reaction. "Yes," she repeated, "because if nothing happened and if I didn't like it, then every thing can just go back to normal and that's what I want. Normal."

She turned away from him once more and started fidgeting nervously with the dishes she'd left out to dry the previous morning. There were water spots on her nice glasses but to wash them again, she would have to go get a towel from the bathroom and that meant putting herself in Blaine's general path. So she just reached up, standing on the tip of her toes as she tried to place them on the top shelf. That's when she felt his hand on her back, fingertips dancing under the hem of her shirt as he kept her balanced. His other took the glass from her and gently set it cabinet. His arm brushed against her shoulder as he pulled down a coffee mug from himself.

His hand rose higher on her back and it was completely and totally needless, but she couldn't seem to pull away. He reached around her, across her, for the coffee pitcher, blocking her in against the counter and it was like she was back on the elevator. The way he stood against her, with one leg nudging against the back of her knees, it brought the heat to rise in her again. She could feel is rebounding off him and she could see on the edge of his collarbone the mark she's made for herself last night. It was bright against his skin and she just wanted to touch it again. But then his mouth was at that sensitive spot near her ear, just close enough to be considered teasing, and his breath was hot on the nape of her neck.

His hand dropped from her back and fluttered against the inside of her bare leg, just under the hem of her satin pajama shorts. It was just a simple touch, one that could have even been considered accidental or innocent coming from someone else, but his intentions where anything but that and it was overwhelming to her. "Okay, stop," she pleased. "Just don't, okay?"

"What?" he asked, the naivety in his voice betrayed by the dark of his eyes.

"This!" she cried, pushing him away from her. "Because this – touching and sex and all do this – this isn't what we do!"

"Do you want to?" he asked, stepping towards her until all illusion of personal space disappeared. "Again?"

It was wrong. They would regret it. Maybe not today, or the next day. Maybe not for a long time, but they would. But she did want him again. She wanted him to touch her, to fill her her up over and over again. She wanted to feel what it felt like to crawl inside his skin. She wanted to make him scream her name. She wanted him to force his from her lips one more time. She wanted to feel his pulse between her teeth, her fingers, her legs. She wanted his breathe on every inch of her skin and damn it, but she was too selfish to say no if he was offering.

"Yes."

-:-

It was just past ten when Blaine finally put the coffee on to brew after warming up Rachel's forgotten tea. She sat on the counter, legs dangling off the edge, smiling contently as she watched Blaine prepare a late breakfast from the limited supplies of her pantry. Which, as it turned out, only had almond butter spread and whole wheat toast. She had suggested, once again, that they go out and could only laugh in agreement when he pointed out that required them to get dressed. Now that the awkwardness had disappeared, she was quite satisfied to laze around in only her bra and shorts. As for Blaine, she decided the less clothing he wore, the better.

She'd never allowed herself to think of him in any way other than her friend. Objectively, she knew that he was an attractive man, but he was completely off limits and as she'd thought until recently, completely gay. It did her no good to catalogue all his desirable traits if they were unattainable. But that wasn't the case anymore, it seemed. Over the morning, she'd started to see him differently. Where she used to say he had an adorable smile, she now called it sexy. His hair was luscious, thick and inviting. His eyes were riveting. The breadth of his shoulders were strong, chest chiseled, hips perfectly indented. He wasn't her cute friend Blaine. He was, for lack of a better word, hot.

He passed her a sandwich half and came to stand between her legs, his free hand on her hip. "My lady," he proclaimed with a quirk of his eyebrows and she could only chuckle as she took a small bite of her meal. She scoffed at her earlier skepticism and wondered how she could think so badly of him. She thought back to her first impression of him the day he moved to New York. It hadn't been a momentary thing at all; he had changed. No, not changed, she thought, more like he'd grown into his skin.

"I've never seen you like this," she said aloud.

He was finishing off the last of his sandwich and his words were slightly garbled as he asked, "like what?"

"Just so..." She wasn't sure how to explain it to him, the change she saw in him. It wasn't that he wasn't who he'd always been. He was still Blaine and everything that made him unique and wonderful, but more somehow. "Complete, I guess. That's not the right word, I'm sorry. It's like you've grown up. You've always been very mature because of all the things you've gone through at a very young age, but you always seemed a little weighted down by it. You would smile and laugh and you never wanted to bother anyone with your problems, but there was always a little bit of sadness to it all. And I just don't see that now. Happy. You're happy."

"Is that a bad thing?" he asked with a smirk.

"Of course not!" she exclaimed, tracing small circled on his chest as he linked his arms around her waist. "It looks good on you."

"You look good on me."

"I just mean you've changed," she said, rolling her eyes in amusement towards him. "I just kind of wonder when it happened."

"Well you have too," he declared, kissing the crown of her head as he did. "You thrive here Rachel. All the drive and ambition you had in Ohio, you finally have something to channel it into and it's done wonders by you. You're confident, in everything. I don't just mean in your talents, but in who you are."

He began trailing the lightest path of kisses from her temple down her jawline to the crook of her neck. He swept aside her desperately tangled hair and she was almost ashamed to admit how quickly she was becoming addicted to the feel of his lips on her skin. It was unlike anyone else she'd been with. There was a purpose in his touch, a method to the madness he seemed to instill in her and it was so hard not to immediately fall into him.

"While I really appreciate that," she said, trying to keep her focus, "you're not answering my question."

"I didn't realize you were asking one," he murmured, hands splayed across her ribcage, the pad of his thumb pressed on the underside of her breast.

"It was implied," she said with a pointed look, pulling away just far enough that his hands had to fall to the counter.

"Let's just say I learned a few things about myself last year," he said vaguely, but Rachel could see the flash of that old sadness in his eyes as whatever memories she'd stirred up came to surface. It was brief, barely enough to register but she felt a sudden and immense resentment towards it. Blaine didn't belong to it anymore and she wasn't going to give it a chance to take it over. In a rush, as if she were chasing it to the finish line, she captured his mouth in an open kiss, wrapping her legs around his waist and drawing him into her. She led his hands back to her body and they vanished under the cotton cups of her bra and just like that, she was lost in his touch again.

-:-

They hadn't even bothered to put their undergarments this time, instead Blaine retrieved the crumpled sheet from her bed when they moved to the couch at a quarter to one. Half of the white linen was spread across his legs, ending just above his knees. She was leaning against the armrest, curled up in the rest. His head lay in her lap as she stroked the stands of hair that curled around his forehead. She could feel him smiling against her leg, humming an unfamiliar melody.

Her phone beeped from the table next to her and she looked at it on impulse. Kurt's names blinked at her in accusation and suddenly she felt sick. Not once, not even one single time since Blaine had kissed her in the elevator had she thought about Kurt in all of this. Kurt, her dear friend, who trusted her so much and had at one time been deeply in love with Blaine and might even still be. She remembered the hope in his voice when he talked about how good it felt to be with Blaine again.

"Oh God," she thought in horror. "They went out last week."

"What's wrong?" Blaine asked, blinking up at her when her ministrations abruptly stopped.

"Are you back together with Kurt?"

"What?" he cried, bolting upright in his seat and a look of shock overtook his features for the first time that day.

"Oh God," she breathed, echoing her previous thoughts. "I can't do this. I mean, it's already ludicrous enough as it is, but I cannot help you cheat on your boyfriend."

"Whoa, whoa, wait," Blaine said quickly, reaching for her hand but she pulled away before he could. "Kurt and I are not together."

"But you were on a date last week," Rachel argued.

"Is that what he said?" he gaped, incredulous. "No, no we did not go on a date."

"Does he know that?"

"Yes, he should," Blaine said harshly.

"Then I'm confused," Rachel admitted. "But I do know that if you and he are even talking about getting back together, then I can't do this. He'll hate me Blaine."

"It's complicated Rachel," he responded, rubbing the back of his neck in agitation.

"Which means what exactly?" she demanded. "Because usually, that's code for something."

"Did Kurt ever tell you why we broke up?" Blaine asked, his voice barely over a whisper as he stared at his hands and she could hear the sadness in his voice.

"He said it was the distance," she answered, the defensive tone from earlier gone.

Blaine gave a dry chuckle and turned away from her, shaking his head. It was almost disbelieving, like he couldn't comprehend what she'd said. It was a long minute before he spoke again, though still without looking at her. "That's what we told people," he said darkly. "When you tell people it was a long-distance relationship, they tend to write it off with no questions asked. I guess that's what we both wanted though, for different reasons. He didn't want people to ask questions. I didn't want to have to give them answers."

"I'm not sure what you're talking about," Rachel said gently.

"He came down to see me one weekend, just out of the blue," he recounted distantly. "It was in the middle of September or something. I was excited to see him until he told me that he wanted us to take a break."

"Just like that?" Rachel gasped.

"You think you're surprised," Blaine joked, finally looking at her again, "imagine what it was like for me. He said that he still loved me, but that being in New York had shown him how little he knew about the world, and how few people he knew. There was this guy he'd met in his summer seminar. His exact words were that he wanted 'to experience all that New York has to offer without feeling guilty'. And I get that, you know, now that I'm here too. It's wild; it draws you and it's all you can do to keep up. But a year ago, when I was stuck in Lima, it just felt like not only was he breaking up with me for someone else, he was leaving me behind. I wasn't good enough for him anymore."

"I don't remember Kurt dating anyone though."

"It didn't work out apparently."

"You never said anything to me," she said, hugging her knees to her chest.

"You didn't need the stress of my problems," he shrugged, "and I didn't want to put you in the middle of it. So I just dealt with it on my own. I'm good at that."

She could only nod; they had just been talking about this, about how he would try so hard to keep everyone from feeling his pain. But to not even mention it to her in almost a year, it just made her feel deeply sad for him. There was already so much he'd had to go through on his own in his life, but a break-up was something you cried to your friends about. They were supposed to talk about how dumb it was that you would ever be dumped, they were supposed to take you out and do stupid things to cheer you up. She hadn't done that for Blaine and she had a sneaking suspicion that no one had.

"When I move to McKinley – and don't get me wrong because I'm glad I did – I don't think anyone really understood that I kind of moved my entire life as well," Blaine continued, "and I did it for Kurt. It's what he wanted and I was in love. When he broke up with me, it all hit me. I didn't have Kurt anymore and most of the good friends I made had graduated with him. I was lonely. I started visiting Dalton more and more and Nick introduced me to a friend of his at a party. We... connected. I wasn't sure that I was ready to be with anyone just yet, but we had a lot of shared interests. It was nice to have someone to talk to and it was easy. There wasn't any pressure to do anything or be anyone and I think because of that, the whole relationship moved pretty fast. We slept together before New Year's and we'd only been dating for maybe two months."

"That's why you seemed so happy over the break," Rachel smiled, more pieces of her puzzle falling into place. She hadn't imagined it at after all; he had been different when she visited for the holidays. "What was his name?"

"Her name was Michelle."

"Her na- her!" she shouted; sure she looked absurd with her mouth hanging open as she gawked at him. A tiny smirk splayed across Blaine's face as he leaned against the armrest opposite from her. "Michelle. As in, a girl, like an actual girl?"

"Despite the very diverse population of Lima," Blaine said dryly, "I don't think central Ohio is the hot spot for transgenders."

"You know what I mean!"

"I'll tell you if you stop screaming at me," he teased, ducking as the pillow she threw at him in retaliation just missed his head. "Yes, Michelle is an actual real life girl; about 5'6, blonde hair, blue eyes, a typically all-American girl. Except for the fact that she's also bisexual and when I met her, had currently broken up with her long-distance girlfriend. Our circumstances were just so similar and she understood what I was going through. More than that, she emphasized. And she was kind of dorky, but cool with it and funny and she took off the bowtie I was wearing and tied it in her hair. I remember thinking that everything about her was so true. I was also a little drunk so I ended up kissing her. Apparently, that's my thing. Some people smoke when they drink, I kiss girls."

"That makes me feel so wonderful now, thank you," Rachel muttered darkly. Blaine crawled across the couch and knelt in front of her so she had no choice but to stare at him. His hands reached out to cradle her face and he brought his lips down to hers in a kiss very different from the ones they're recently shared. The others had been rushed and hurried, frenzied and sexual. They had left her breathless with the relentless need and intensity. But this one, it was soft and quiet, almost lazy even. His lips were pliable against her own and her knees went weak despite the fact that she was sitting down.

"I promise you," he whispered against her lips, "there is a point to this story and it comes back to you."

She bit her bottom lip as he kissed her cheek before settling against the back of the couch. "Continue," she requested, shifting to lean against his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist. He wrapped his around her shoulder, one hand weaving through her long hair.

"Michelle came to my house a few days later, coffee in hand, and while I was trying to understand how she could be so chipper at eight in the morning, she just got right down to business and asked why I kissed her. I gave her these cliché stock answers about how I was drunk and I didn't mean to and I'm gay so I'm sorry for misleading her and she just looked at me and said 'stop talking'. The next thing I knew, she was kissing me and I liked it. I truly did and it reminded me of when you and I kissed at that party you had in your basement."

"Oscar room," Rachel corrected.

"Right, Oscar room," he said. "After that, she asked me again, why I had kissed her and I just didn't have an answer for her. I just remember saying 'I'm gay' over and over again. She laughed and I'll always remember this, she said, "so am I, but what does that really mean?'. It just started something in me. It wasn't instantaneous or anything, and I damn near had a full-on identity crisis but Michelle helped me realize that dating someone, being close to someone in a romantic way, that it wasn't about gender for me, it was about the person and the way I feel about who that specific person is.

"She was pretty great through the whole thing, because I had no clue what I was doing. She let me freak out and ask the stupid questions. She'd been through this herself and it's confusing Rach, it really is. Especially if you're like me and never realized how much you relied on your sexuality to define yourself. I'd spent years telling people that was one hundred percent gay. I even said that to you, and I regretted doing that, but to be honest, you scared me. I really liked you, but somehow in my head, liking you meant I went through all the pain and bullying and running away for nothing. So I just shut it out in my head. I never told you how sorry I was for doing that."

"You don't need to apologize," she said, punctuating her thought with a light kiss to his abdomen. "I wasn't exactly in the right frame of mind to be in a relationship then. You probably saved our friendship."

"I still lied to you," he insisted.

"I don't hold it against you, I promise," she reassured him. "but I do have a question for you now. Are you... what are you exactly if you're not gay?"

"Bi,I guess," he answered with a shrug. "I mean, I think I identify as gay more because I tend to notice guys before I do girls. If I were walking down the street and passed this insanely hot Abercrombie model type guy, there's this primary sexual reaction like, 'I want him'. That has nothing to do with who he is or if he's an interesting person at all, it's physical. Then I might pass a girl on the same street and I may have this passing thought that she's beautiful, but it's more like an appreciation of that beauty. Then say I end up meeting both of these people and the guy, as aesthetically pleasing as he is to me, is the most boring or horrid individual on the planet, but the girl is smart and witty. I might fool around with the guy, but the girl is the one I'd want to date, to be with emotionally. She'd be the one I'd rather invest my time in."

"So it just doesn't matter to you at all, if it's a man or a woman?" Rachel asked, looking up at him quizzically, to which he simply shook his head no. A twinge of sadness washed over her and it took her a moment to pinpoint exactly where it was coming from. It had nothing to so with Blaine's new sexual identity, or lack of, or whatever way he wanted to look at. It had more to do with the fact that this was something he had clearly spent a lot of time thinking about and he had never said a single word about it until this moment, despite the fact they'd been in constant contact through the year. "Why didn't I know any of this while it was happening?"

"I told you, I didn't want to worry you with my problems," he said.

"But why do you do that?" she hissed. "You always do that and I've told you so many times, even before I moved away, that you are not a problem, Blaine. You're my friend and friends talk about these things; they help each other. You listened to me cry for weeks about my break-up with Finn, even though I was the one to end it but you never once said anything to me about your break-up with Kurt. And now I find out that you made this huge monumental self-discovery nearly a year ago and there was no hint that this was going on. I just don't understand why. Did you think I would think badly of you, or judge you for this?"

"Of course not!"

"Then why didn't you tell me?" she demanded.

"Because I didn't realize what was going on!" he yelled. "I mean, I knew I was dating a girl and I knew what that meant for other people, but I didn't know what that meant for me. I didn't talk to anybody about this, okay? I just let it happen. I needed to see what it was before I changed my entire life for nothing again. I didn't want to make the same mistake I'd made with Kurt, where my entire world revolved around one person or one idea or one goddamn label."

He had started pacing about halfway through his tirade, a fleece throw tied around his waist. Her apartment was silent for several minutes before Blaine returned to her, rubbing his hands over his face. He sat on the coffee table, facing her and reached for both of her hands, clasping them in his. "I would have loved to confide in you," he said softly, "but I was a mess Rachel. Yes, I was starting to explore this part of me that I never really acknowledged, but that brought up a lot of other ugly feelings with it. I felt like a fake, a liar. I had to explain to my father, who still doesn't look at me the same way for being gay, that I wasn't as gay as I thought. And he was angry about it; he told me to make up my fucking mind and stop being such a hormonal bitch."

"I could slap him," Rachel grumbled, turning his hands over so she could lace her fingers through his.

"Someday, I think I'll let you," Blaine agreed. "I realized that I had spent so long, trying so hard, to kind of make up for who I am. I don't really know how it started, but even though I was okay with who I thought I was, I felt this constant need to make it okay for everyone else. People at my old school were so uncomfortable with my sexuality, so I moved away to Dalton where they didn't seem to care. I'm a good singer, but I only took the solos people gave to me instead of trying out for them. Even with Kurt, I was the same way and I still feel like that was the reason he left me. I got so tired of it. It was ruining me, trying to be good enough for other people."

"It never pays off," she admitted.

"No, it doesn't," he sighed. "This was something I had to do for myself, by myself. Do you understand?"

She did; she understood that all too well. She'd been there herself, several times in fact, and no matter what advice or counsel she received, it always came down to her in the end. It was how she managed to keep sight of her dreams and how she managed to keep the energy to pursue them despite it being harder than she ever imagined. She knew instinctively these things were as much a part of her as the color of her skin and the beating of her heart; every time she lost sight of them, she betrayed herself. It was one of the reasons she had left Finn in the end, even though it had nearly broken her into a thousand pieces.

"I do," she whispered, leaning her forehead against his. "I just hate that I wasn't there for you when you needed me."

"But you were," Blaine said. "Maybe we didn't talk about me, but you made me laugh. You made me feel connected to something outside of Lima and because of that, I knew I had a chance of making it out okay. You have become the best friend I've ever known and I love you for that. You helped pull me through even if you didn't know it."

She couldn't speak around the lump in her throat. Her eyes welled up with tears and she hurriedly tried to blink them away but they spilled over to her cheeks instead. She brushed them away in embarrassment. "Oh God, please don't cry," Blaine pleaded with her.

"I'm not sad," she said kindly. "It's just that you're my best friend too."

There was so much more that she wanted to say, but the words weren't coming to her, so she merely kissed him instead. It was started soft and slow, a kiss of comfort but it steadily grew into more. He let her take the lead this time and even though it wasn't as frantic as their other encounters, it was invoking all of the same feelings. It was like she imagined a high would feel. Every last atom of her body shook and rose up to match with his and she knew as she pulled him on top of her that she had crossed the line. This wasn't just sex for her anymore; this was intimacy on a level she'd never been to before.

It scared her in the best possible way.

-:-

Rachel couldn't remember who had fallen asleep first, just that they had both collapsed from exhaustion at some point after noon. Her right side was pleasantly numb and she realized it was probably the result of Blaine resting peacefully on her chest, head tucked under her chin, arms slung loosely around her hips. Her legs begged to stretch and her back needed a good crack, but she couldn't bear the thought of moving away from him. Just in case it might disturb him, she was afraid of breathing too loudly. This could easily become one of her favorite moments, she mused, and one she'd be willing to have multiple times.

She found herself studying the fading red lines that crisscrossed over the width of his shoulder blades and down his back. These were hers, her marks on his skin and though she couldn't recall exactly what had forced her to make them , she had a strange sense of smug satisfaction in them. Somehow, she felt like he was truly hers, like she now forever owned a part of him. Regardless whether he had given it, or if she had taken it, it was hers.

Part of her knew she should be panicking; these were not thoughts you had about your best friend, even if you were sleeping with said friend, and especially not if you have only started sleeping with that same friend less than twenty-four hours ago. But these things didn't scare her the way they should. She was afraid of what would happen to her sanity if he decided he never wanted to touch her again. She was afraid of never again feeling as close to him as she did in these moments. Because she couldn't stand to lose him for anything.

"If we just stayed here forever, would that be okay with you?" She felt his whispers more than she heard him. He was still curled up on her breast, eyes closed, looking for all the world like he was still asleep. His lips brushed her skin as he spoke, his voice deep and husky. "Because I just don't think I can move ever again."

"That depends on what you mean by 'here'," she said lightly. "You could probably convince me to nail my apartment door shut-."

"Do you have a hammer?" he requested, sounding very serious.

"But," she continued, "if you mean for us to stay in my bed for the rest of eternity, I think I'll need to shower first."

"I think we can compromise on that," he smirked and quicker than she could have ever excepted, he stood up and scooped her up in his arms carrying her across the room to the powder room. "As long as I get to join you," he commanded, setting her feet back on the ground. "Water conservation, obviously."

"Obviously," she repeated, shaking her head, but pulling him towards her all the same. It wasn't long before steam began to fill the room and they were sliding around her very small shower that hardly had enough room for her alone. The water seemed to rejuvenate them both; the aches in her used muscles began to melt away and Blaine's energy returned in full force.

"So I have another question," Rachel said, lathering shampoo through her long locks. "Is she how you got so good at it?"

"Who?" Blaine asked, drawing shapes on her skin with her body soap.

"Michelle."

"Good at what?" he repeated distractedly, frowning as the running water washed away half of the flower he'd created on her shoulder.

"Sex," Rachel replied bluntly. She was past the point of being coy; for God's sake, she was showering with the man. Her experience was limited to only Finn, but there was no question that she and Blaine had better sex. Maybe it was because the height difference wasn't so awkward, or maybe because her virginity was long gone, but she seemed to fit better with him. His hands curved over her breasts instead of enveloping them. Her hips molded to his and when he held her tight, there would be no space between them because his arms were too long to go around her properly. And he knew where to touch her, where to be gentle, where to use force, when to pull back and when to push her over the edge; things she never realized she was missing in her previous sex life.

A light blush flushed across Blaine's cheeks, busying himself by fumbling with the conditioner top. "I'm not sure what the appropriate response to that is."

"I just mean th-that," she stammered and okay, maybe she still had the decency to be a little awkward about this, but the question had already been asked, "if she kind of taught you how to-"

"Have sex with girls?" he finished for her, eyebrows quirked in amusement.

"I'm just curious about what it was like," she finished, snagging the conditioner bottle from his hands and snapping it open. She was nearly out, but spread a little bit of the scented lotion on the top of his head before working it into the ends of her own hair.

"You wonder what it's like to have sex with girls?" he repeated, his grin twisted into a teasing leer. "Because if you're really curious, I could probably hook that up for you."

"Blaine Anderson!" she gasped. "Oh my God, stop it right now."

"I'm sorry, it was just so random. I'm sorry, truly, I'm sorry. " he laughed and if there had been room in the shower, she could have sworn he would have doubled over from the sheer amount of amusement he seemed to find in the whole conversation. "But if you really want to know, she did kind of coach me at the beginning. But I learned that it's not entirely different. It's like, the angles are different but it's not... it doesn't necessarily fall at opposite ends of the spectrum. And honestly, it's different for whoever you're with. You have to pay attention and learn what your partner likes, listen to them. And then, if you do it right, you end up in the shower talking about all your exes."

-:-

There was only so much almond butter one could eat and by six o'clock, they couldn't stand it anymore. They needed to go out and while it took the better part of another hour to actually get dressed, eventually they made it down the long flight of stairs and walked the ten blocks to their favorite diner in the area. It wasn't anything fancy, but it was affordable with a wide variety of vegan dishes for Rachel to choose from and Blaine was free to order his cheeseburger in peace, though he occasionally let her order for him when she couldn't make up her mind on what she wanted.

"So I'm assuming you're no longer with Michelle," Rachel stated after the waiter took their menus.

"How did we end up talking about me all day long?" Blaine asked, stirring an ice cube into his piping hot coffee.

"By not talking about you all year," she retorted. "This is what happens when you keep secrets darling."

"I'd still much rather hear about you," Blaine insisted.

"Except you know everything about me," Rachel pointed out to me. "You know how I left my first acting class in tears because Rosenbaum told me I had no business performing as Maria. You were the one who talked me through my mid-semester freshman crisis when I threatened to quit and move into your basement. And when I broke up with Finn because I knew I would never again feel the way I did about him as I did in high school, you were the one who said I had done the right thing no matter how wrong it felt."

"Fair enough," Blaine sighed, lounging in the booth with his back propped up against the wall in support. "No, Michelle and I broke up during spring break. It was less than amicable unfortunately. We're friends now and I'm really glad for that but it took us awhile to get there."

A brief memory flashed across her mind of Blaine calling her late one Saturday night in a panic. He'd been extremely upset, on the edge of tears she imagined, and ended up begging her if he could come stay with her for a few days. No, he didn't care that he'd be missing school, he just really needed to see her. She'd been hesitant to say yes, only because she knew he was crazy enough to do it if she came him the slightest bit of permission. So even though he wouldn't tell her what was wrong, she told him he as welcome to visit; he never actually made the trip.

"Was this around the same time you nearly chartered a plane to New York?" she asked quietly.

"That was not my finest hour," he said with a wry chuckle.

"You never told me what happened then either," she observed pointedly.

"Everything happened," he explained, "though it started when Kurt came over to my house and decided to declare his love for me, never mind the fact that we hadn't spoken in months. He had this big speech about how he missed me and it was wrong of him to break up with me just because he lived in a different city. I kept asking him to leave but he wouldn't and I got really angry. This was the first time I'd really seen him since we broke up and it was like all these things I never got to say started pouring out. We ended up screaming at each other and my father finally broke us up. I didn't even realize he was home until he had Kurt by the collar of his coat and was tossing him out our front door. It was the first time I ever felt like my dad was on my side. Which didn't last long since a few days later we had a huge fight about the whole thing, but for a moment, I felt like... like I was important to him."

He was picking at the paper napkin on the table, tearing of the corners into tiny white confetti pieces; this was something she knew he did unconsciously when he was uncomfortable. "I went to Michelle's and told her everything," he said and his hands couldn't stay still. "At first she seemed to understand, but the longer I talked, the more annoyed she seemed to get until finally she asked me why I hadn't just told him I was dating someone else. I tried to explain that Kurt didn't really believe in being bisexual, and that I hadn't even told him that I was bi. She thought it would be just the thing to shut him up, but I didn't want to hurt him for the sake of hurting him, which is how Michelle and I started fighting over whether or not I was still in love with Kurt. I wasn't, not exactly, but seeing him again reminded me of the things I did love about him."

"Well your first is bound to do that to you," Rachel said sympathetically, leaning forward to rest her chin on her hands.

"Michelle didn't see it that way I guess," Blaine shrugged. "So that was the end of that. I ended up at home, and this is incredibly embarrassing so you can never repeat this, I just sat in my room for almost a week, crying over country music. Kurt called me a few days later asking if we could meet up somewhere and I just fucking panicked. That's when I called you. I just needed an out, you know? Somewhere I could go and hide away from everything and no one would judge me. And I knew that place was with you."

"But you didn't come," she said, unable to hide the note of hurt in her voice.

"I ended up talking to Kurt instead. It was awkward but we didn't yell at each other. I told him that I wasn't interested in being his boyfriend again, but that maybe we could figure out a way to be friends again and we left it at that. I guess we've managed to repair some of those bridges, but I'm still cautious about him. He really did hurt me Rachel and to this day, I still don't think he understands how much," he said, fiddling with his fork i– the napkin long destroyed – and t was the saddest she had ever seen him. Rachel reached across the table and took his hands in hers, rubbing soft circles into his skin.

"I still couldn't tell him about Michelle," Blaine whispered, "so I never tried to get her back, thinking maybe she was right."

"So Kurt doesn't know any of this?" Rachel asked, flabbergasted when he shook his head no. "Blaine! You have to tell him!"

"It's not his business," he parried defensively, his face the very picture of stubbornness.

"If you two want to be friends at all, he needs to know," Rachel cried, "especially if he's still in love with you."

"If I ever, and right now I feel like this is a big if, get to the point where I think I want to be with Kurt again, I'll tell him," Blaine said, the finality apparent in his voice. "Right now, I'm not interested and I don't feel like he's earned the right to know private things about my life anymore."

"But I have?" Rachel asked, her eyebrows raised in speculation.

"Yes," he told her, eyes shining and unwavering as he gazed at her. It was heavy, intense, and absolutely confusing, yet she felt safe when he looked at her like that. She could have cursed the waiter for bringing their food at that exact moment, but as Blaine turned to say a polite thank you, the spell had been effectively broken and the moment passed for her to say anything in response.

-:-

It was well past midnight when that heart-pounding gaze returned to her as she and Blaine lay in her bed once more. She was half-asleep but his eyes were wide and searching. "Rach?" he whispered, the slight crack in his voice making him sound insecure and vulnerable. She could see this echoed in his eyes and she steeled herself against what she had been expecting to happen earlier that morning. Because now he would tell her that maybe this whole day had been a mistake. It was too weird, too intense, too much, too fast. And he would be right, it was all those things. But unlike him, she would never regret it.

"What are we doing?" he asked. "I mean, really, what is this?"

And there is was, the question that erased their entire fantasy. Reality set in with this question and it almost made her want to cry; but she wouldn't, not over this. "I'm not sure," she whispered back, "but it doesn't have to mean anything you don't want it to."

It was the perfect answer in a way. It didn't force him into a corner, didn't make her sound like a needy child, and it protected their friendship; because no matter how much she loved him - not that she was sure how she loved him, only that she did – there was nothing more important than that. She needed to be able to call him at three in the morning because she needed to run lines because she was so nervous about her scene for class. She needed to know that he would hug her when she was upset. She needed to know that he could make her laugh over the stupidest things, that they could have their own jokes, their own stories. She needed to be able to tell her children what having a best friend truly meant. And she needed to be all that for him.

"What do you want it to mean?" he pressed, sitting up. He was twisting the sheet in his hand again.

"I..." her thoughts trailed off. She didn't have a real answer except the one she'd been repeating to herself all day. "I don't want it to mean that we aren't going to be friends anymore."

Blaine's entire body froze, it seemed like. He could have been a photograph or a statue for all the movement he made and suddenly she was panicking. Tears spilled over her cheeks before she could stop them and she buried her face in her pillow before he could see them. She couldn't look at him in fear that they had just ruined everything, that she had just ruined everything. The sheets rustled in a frenzy and suddenly he was on top of her, arms wrapped around her waist in clinging embrace.

"Never say that again," he croaked. "Please, never say that again."

They stayed like that until the sun came up and even though they still had no idea what they'd gotten themselves into, had no idea what it could potentially evolve into, or if they would collapse in on themselves like a house of cards, right then, they were together. They whispered assurances that they would always be together, in one fashion or another. Take it or leave it, that was enough.


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