Chapter III

Now Five Years Later On You've Got the World at Your Feet.

Part One.

It felt like Kurt had conquered the world in five years.

Really, it was five months.

That was all it took for someone like Kurt. It came as a surprise to everyone- except Blaine.

But honestly, it took a lot to surprise Blaine.

They shad conversations sometimes, and the times they spoke in depth were little landmarks, little highlights of the time. The first had been only a week after Kurt got the audition. Kurt was still wearing the pants.

xXxXx

Blaine arched his eyebrow as Kurt sat down across from him.

"I remember you had a penchant for them." He wore the striped pants under a light looking pea coat and over knee high lace up boots.

"I did. I do. You look good." And he did, Blaine noted. He looked… cleaner, less pale, the dark circles under his eyes had faded. He looked even more well kempt when Blaine had found him. Kurt twinkled at him.

"As do you. But then, with you, it's not as much of a shocker." Blaine smiled and winked as the waiter brought the coffee he'd ordered. But he filed away for later use Kurt's self-deprecation. It riled in a peculiar way.

"Got you a latte." He said, taking up his own mug, warming his hands against it. Kurt murmured what might have been 'perfect', but Blaine couldn't tell. He was more concerned with the way his lips brushed along the warm porcelain, tongue feathering out just enough to check the temperature of the beverage. Blaine's eyes darkened marginally.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked, still looking down at his coffee, oblivious to the look on his companion's face. "I- I wanted to talk to you…" And unexpectedly, roses bloomed on Kurt's pale cheeks, and every unchivalrous thought flew from Kurt's head.

"Anything. We can talk about anything. How can I help you?" Kurt looked up at him, eyes pained.

"I don't think we should… should be together." Blaine's eyes slung wide, and Kurt held his gaze determinedly.

"Kurt. I know that. "Kurt's eyes flickered in something like surprise. Blaine suppressed a smile at that. "I don't… I don't want to be the reason you succeed. I want what you do to be all your own- not with people thinking, "Oh, they are together, I'd better hire his boyfriend."

Kurt stared.

"They have to hire you because you are gifted. And you're gifted, Kurt." Kurt just looked at the man. The beautiful, able curled, bright eyed, warm bodied man. Who sat before him, refusing to Richard Gere him. It was enough to make a weaker boy cry in conflicting emotion. Kurt, however, merely nodded his understanding.

"That's exactly what I was thinking, was hoping you'd say." Blaine smiled at him. "One question, though." Blaine's smile flickered ever so slightly.

"Would they really do that?"

"Do what?"

"Hire me because of you." Blaine shrugged, face relaxing.

"Probably." Kurt cocked an eyebrow, shifting in his seat.

"Who are you?"

"Blaine Anderson." The name rang a distant Bell. Kurt couldn't place it. But then the thought about the surname, that he'd never known until this moment- once again, it echoed distantly in his memory.

"Right." He said, quietly.

"Hey." Blaine said, equally quiet. "If there is ever a time that you feel like you can stand on your own…"

"I know." Kurt said, quickly.

"I want you." Blaine said it with a nonchalance that made it seem more meaningful and honest then if he had said it boldly… as if he were stating an all-too-obvious fact.

It effectively reduced Kurt to a stuttering child.

"You… I… Blaine!" Kurt gave himself a slow, sarcastic mental applause for his eloquence.

Blaine laughed openly. "You look so surprised. Don't be." When he saw that in saying this, he wasn't helping Kurt to relax, he changed tact. "Drink your coffee, sugar. It'll be alright." Kurt gulped down an awkward mouthful. "Don't worry. I won't mention it in day-to-day conversation… anymore. Though, I doubt I'll get the chance. Kate is a slave driver. Kurt nodded.

"This I know. I was required to memorize all of act one without blocking by… yesterday."

"Fuck."

"I know."

"I'm tired just hearing about this." Kurt laughed.

"Oh yes. That must be so difficult for you. I have no idea how hard it must be- after all, experiencing it can't possibly compete with hearing it." Blaine grinned cockily and took a sip from his coffee.

"Hey." Kurt said, struck by a sudden thought. "Don't- don't wait for me, okay?" Blaine looked at him. He waited for Kurt to continue. The younger man grabbed a napkin and wiped his saucer where his latte had splattered, a nervous action. "I mean, you should… date. Men. I don't want to feel like the reason you're alone." Blaine's eye sparkled with mischief as he pressed the back of his hand to his forehead.

"But how can you ask me to do something so horrid and unimaginable- to date! I don't know if I can bear it." Kurt glared at him. Blaine was not immune.

"I was trying to be the good guy." He twitched his eyebrows. "You can't even let me have that." Blaine smiled apologetically.

"Nope. Looks like I have a monopoly on the good guy market." A waitress slipped into the boys' bubble and Blaine took the leather folder with contained the check, pushed a bill that was already in his hand inside, and handed it back to her. "Keep the change." He winked at her, and Kurt watched her scurry into the kitchen, presumably to jump up and down in girlish exultation. He felt a stab of instinctual hatred, mingled with the fervent hope that Blaine would never ever wink at him. The effects seemed to be devastating.

xXxXx

"And rest. Okay. Dancers, you're good to go home. Descamisados, you too. Eva, Che, we are going to start the waltz. Rach, dear, you can take off the wig, I don't think we need you blond. And we've only been doing individual stuff, so you too haven't met yet, am I right? Kurt Hummel, this is-"

But the wig came off and no sooner had he seen the plethora of dark hair than a pair of arms encircled his neck, and the familiar scent that enveloped him knocked him back to his high school years. He didn't even have to look at the girl in his arms.

"Rachel Berry. I should have fucking known." And he hugged her hard. Rachel giggled and then bounced out of his arms, holding him at arm's-length. Her eyebrows folded immediately.

"You don't look as I remember you, sweetheart." Kurt rolled his eyes.

"I'm recovering from a performer's death. Just getting back in the game. You, on the other hand, look great- how did you get here?"

"I was touring with phantom- I had a really minor part, so I was free to audition for thing, and when we landed in Chicago, this was the first call I got. I've been living in a hotel since some idiot already took the dorm above the theater-" Kurt raised his hand, chuckling.

"Guilty." Rachel actually clapped.

"Oh, this is amazing! We should room together!" At the expression on his face, she began gesturing frantically. "No, listen! My salary will go down, but yours will go up, because we're both living there, and we can split the cost of food, and you can give me fashion advice and we can talk about boys… Don't you see? The universe put Kurt Hummel and Rachel Berry together again! You need a girlfriend. I need a sassy gay friend." Kurt might've been offended, but he found himself smiling in spite of himself. "Please, Kurt?" Kurt opened his mouth, but Rachel spoke over him. "Think about it. During the dance rehearsal. And after, if you want, we can go talk to the owner." Kurt nodded, and Rachel beamed at him. Kate, who had gotten bored of their conversation, had gone off to talk to the lighting designer, and was now returning.

"Finally, you two. Let's go. Just speak the song while you are learning the dance, and lord help you right now if you don't have dance shoes. Where's Kevin? KEVIN?" as Kate called for the choreographer, Kurt smiled to himself. Rachel would get her way, as Rachel always had. And he couldn't even be mad, really. He was looking forward to not feeling so alone.

After the rehearsal was over, Kurt allowed Rachel to drag him through the theater- The way she knew, and he didn't, until they arrived at a door that had a set of initials painted directly on the wood. B.A. Kurt didn't have time to meditate on this detail, however, because Rachel had pushed said door open.

There were several things that had caught Kurt's attention. The first was how thoroughly the walls were decorated with posters of shows or bands, framed tee shirts, and the like. The next thing was a girl, standing, arms out, bodice being wrenched closed by a man who was on the phone, speaking loudly. "No, I don't care if you take a fermata. I really don't, right now- licensing? God damn, I wrote it! Just tell whoever asks that you have express permission… well, send them up. I don't… Okay. Right. Yes, I'll be down to tune it in-" for the first time, Blaine's eyes flickered up from the strings he was pulling tight and knotting, meeting Kurt's, who looked surprised but still managed to arc a sarcastic brow. "…fifteen minutes." He held the knot work on the bodice together in one hand and too his phone from between his ear and shoulder, clicking it off. His hair was slicked back again. Kurt was reminded of the time he'd called him "oil slick." Blaine completed the bow and turned the girl around with deft and gentle hands. "Now go down and tell Stella that if your corset is tied any other way, it is wrong. You don't have to change out of your jeans, but at least put the wig and character shoes on. And then tell the cast to do trust falls till I get down there…. Shit, after I tune the… Okay… twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of trust falls. Don't bruise. Christ." He laughed, and the girl smiled and nodded, scurrying away. Rachel stepped forward.

"Mr. Anderson, I'm a huge fan. Huge. I mean, you inspire me, and I've seen all of your tours, I have your album, too, god…" Blaine was cutting her off courteously and suddenly, Kurt's jaw dropped.

Anderson was a pretty common name. But Blaine wasn't. And Kurt hadn't recognized it. Kurt hadn't even recognized his face, because up close, he looked different, warmer, his good looks were far subtler. But that didn't excuse the fact that for two whole months, Kurt hadn't put it together.

Blaine was famous.

He was known as Theater's new, hip, young voice. He was a wunderkind, according to the media, he had led more shows than any actor his age, he put out albums of music… he was known as an eligible bachelor, Hollywood's hottest, sought after by men and women.

Kurt was dumbfounded.

He was not used to being taken off guard.

"So his salary would, naturally, go up, since mine would go down, and we would-"

"How on earth do you know each other?" Blaine asked, eyes on Rachel.

"We went to high school together. Best friends." Blaine blinked.

"What a coincidence. Okay, I see no reason not to allow it."

"Thank you." She beamed at Blaine and turned. "Well, we'll leave you to it." Kurt moved stiffly as if to follow.

"Kurt. Stay for a minute?" The brunette between them mouthed "I'll be upstairs" at Kurt, which he guessed to mean the apartment. She flew out of the room.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked immediately, acknowledging, as was his wont, the elephant in the room.

"Tell you what?" Blaine asked, looking generally confused.

"That you're that Blaine Anderson." Blaine chuckled.

"I wasn't aware that there was another one. And I kind of assumed you knew." Kurt looked at him skeptically. "Okay, fine. I was going to tell you up until you put the fear of Merlin in me with that shove when I told you I had an audition for you. I thought you were going to accuse me of being a John, or something, I had no idea how you were going to react." Kurt cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Seriously?"

"You are scary when you want to be, Kurt. And have a tendency toward the dramatic. It's fascinating but lethal combination." Kurt shrugged.

"Probably should be mad at you for that. And for not being straightforward with me." Kurt said, although the emotions he called upon he couldn't find. Blaine shrugged.

"You can if you like. Seems a bit more validating then evidence to the contrary." Kurt nodded.

"Does anything change?"

"Not really." Blaine's eyes suddenly seemed tense, as if weight had been pushed onto his shoulders. "We should still see other people for the time being… which means…" He stuck out his hand, which Kurt took- they shook firmly.

"Friends." Kurt said, grinning.

They both ignored the fluttering sparks.

xXxXx

Colgate. Trident. Aquafresh. Crest. Aim? Toothpaste had weird names. Blaine picked up the Crest and dropped it in his basket. He turned and walked down the aisle and into the next, looking for razors. A very familiar form was already there. Blaine smiled as he took him in. Kurt stood, long and tall in surprisingly ragged clothing. Blaine had adjusted to the fact that Kurt, on a meager salary was somehow able to deck himself out in the way no one had ever known. But now he was wearing skinny jeans and a sweat shirt with "Evita" printed across the front. Stranger still, he was glaring at a shelf of feminine razors, and had earbuds in and playing so loud that Blaine could hear but not distinguish the tune from where he stood.

He ambled over and plucked one from the ear he was closer to, putting it in his own. Kurt jerked up, and then rolled his eyes at the sight of Blaine. He opened his mouth to speak, and rolled his eyes at the sight of Blaine. He shushed him, listening.

"Hit Me With Your Best Shot? Really?" Kurt yanked the buds out of both of their ears and tucked them away.

"It's a powerful anthem. Go away."

"You use women's razors?" Kurt turned his glare on him and Blaine quite literally took a step back.

"They are for Rachel. As is the chocolate, and the magazines, and the tampons." Blaine quirked his eyebrows.

"You honestly don't seem like the lackey type."

"There isn't much worse than Rachel Berry on her period. One thing that is, however, is Eva Peron on her period. And the only thing that trumps the both of those is Rachel Berry playing Eva Peron while both are on their respective periods. I am putting out fires, here."

"Duly noted." Kurt turned away from him, so much stress pouring off of him, it was almost visible.

"As long as you're here, do you know what kind of razors I'm supposed to get?" Blaine shrugged, thinking.

"I would get the kind with the lotion. If circumstances really are so dire."

"Genius. And now I can blame you if that's wrong." He muttered, plucking the box off the shelf and dropping it in the basket and turning back to Blaine.

"Fair enough."

"So, you make fun of me for my basket, you man's man?" Blaine looked down at the contents of his own basket. Ramen noodles, toothpaste, hair gel, and condoms. He smirked back up at Kurt.

"I think I'm just the picture of a thoroughly responsible modern man." Kurt rolled his eyes.

"On the contrary, too much… sodium is bad for your heart." And then, Kurt mentally slapped himself for this gleaming, spectacular repartee. Sodium.

"Luckily," he drawled, "I have a very steady heart." Kurt looked down, attempting to hide a grin, and looked up again.

"I thought you weren't going to say that kind of thing in public."

"About my heart health?"

"You are so funny."

"I can't seem to help it. All I can talk about when I around you is my heart health, it seems." Kurt nodded, understanding the feeling and the statement as he looked back on their conversations as of late. The tension was something that was no longer entirely enjoyable. It was nice. But it could also be bulky and unmanageable, bigger than both of them, and it was difficult to get normal, everyday tasks done. Like blocking rehearsals while Blaine was watching, or passing each other on the stairs. They both so wanted to be friends.

"Only one thing for it, I guess. We have to break the tension. So." He pointed down at the box of condoms. "Who are you fucking?" Blaine blinked in surprise, and then laughed outright.

"No one that important. Just…"

"Some guy?" Kurt finished for him. Blaine nodded. "You walking back to the theater? I wanna hear this one." Kurt asked, moving to pay. Blaine nodded, apparently struck dumb by the quick change.

He waited for Kurt to pay and then paid himself. Kurt dangled the plastic bag from his wrist, both hands tucked in a pocket of the sweatshirt. The word "adorable" flew into his mind and then he banished it. Kurt was trying to fix their inability to be normal friends, and he wasn't going to ruin it by thinking things like that about Kurt, no matter how true. They fell in step together.

"Is he hot?" Blaine made a little guttural noise, and let his head fall back in appreciation.

"Damn, boy. Describe." Kurt's voice betrayed nothing but interest for his friend.

"He's tall. Really muscular. Long hair- I've always had a thing for long hair." Kurt ran his hand through his medium, well styled coif, but otherwise said nothing. Blaine didn't notice. "Perpetual five o 'clock shadow." Kurt wrinkled his nose. Facial hair? Really? "And his eyes…" Kurt waited, but Blaine didn't finish.

"Oh my god. Did you forget the color of his eyes?" Blaine was watching their feet sheepishly. "Oh my GOD! Blaine, I was joking, do you actually- what the hell is wrong with you? I actually feel sorry for this boy." Blaine colored.

"It's honestly not like that." Kurt looked at him.

"What's it like, then?" Blaine seemed to squirm.

"It's… physical."

Blaine looked at him.

"I can feel your judgment. It stings."

"Not my fault you're a slut." Blaine shoved his shoulder playfully with his own.

"That was so uncalled for. And just plain mean, actually."

"So you aren't a slut." Kurt said skeptically, straightening his sleeve where Blaine had nudged him.

"No. I'm a man. I have needs." Blaine looked sheepish again. "Very powerful needs." Kurt laughed.

"You've never been this shy about sex before, babe." Blaine rolled his eyes.

"You're incredible, you know that?"

"Mmm. So it isn't true love?" Blaine shook his head, smiling. "Why not?"

That one pulled Blaine up short. He didn't know why he didn't love Jonathan. He was everything Blaine wanted. Smart. Easy going. Had a beautiful laugh. Was comfortable in jeans and looked damn good in a suit. But…

"I don't know why I don't love him." Kurt raised his palms sky-ward.

"Can't force what you don't feel."

"That's the thing, though. I do feel it. We have chemistry."

"He gets you off?" Kurt tried to clarify, genuinely confused.

"No. I mean- chemistry. Like sparks. It's fun. I like being with him, but there really isn't…"

"Dimension."

"Exactly."

"You aren't head over heels."

"No." Kurt looked at him.

"Then you have to be very clear about what you're there for. Sex. And make sure that he wants that too, and that it's all he wants. No strings, because some day you'll find a man who can make you moan and gives you the fairytale love." He watched Blaine's face. It hardened at the very end of his speech.

"What?" he asked, a little defensively.

"Doesn't exist."

"What doesn't?"

"The fairy tale. Love is flawed. It only ends in pain. Especially for guys like me." Kurt actually stopped walking. Blaine stopped and waited for Kurt to start back up again.

That did not make sense. Blaine, who'd called him cynical, who was famous for his charity, who let a bartender into his apartment without knowing him, trusting implicitly that he wouldn't scamper away with his possessions while Blaine slept. Blaine who was naïve. Blaine who saw the best in everyone- didn't believe in love.

The tables had turned rather alarmingly.

"Kurt." Blaine caught his attention. They were at the theater, and Kurt watched dazedly as Blaine turned to face him, clapping him on the shoulder, thanking him for talking, promising to see him soon, was going, was gone.

Kurt felt like weeping for this man who lived without love. And on another, selfish, small level, which the sensitive part of him rebuked and resented, he felt like weeping for himself.

Kurt broke down the tension for the most part. Talking about love and sex in a different context then their own odd one had helped- But Blaine finished it all on his own, had, in a few words, slammed himself permanently into the friend zone. Kurt deserved love. And Blaine couldn't give him that. And maybe it was easier that way. Maybe it was easier, because now he could have Blaine as a friend. Because even with the deal they'd struck, there was hope, promise, even. When there was a resounding "no," the only promise was that if he followed his cock or his heart instead of his head, he would only be broken again.

xXxXx

Okay, this chapter has been a total bitch. I was originally going to put together all five scenes, but they are taking so long to churn out, because the boys are being stubborn and the background doesn't always come easy, and hargblah. I'm also kind of sheepish about bringing Rachel back, because I don't want this to get sitcom-y, or typical. So, I have a lot of reservations about how this will be received, but I'm going to release it now, rather than beating a dead horse.

Also, I hope the xs for page breaks clear up any confusion. Chapters one and two have been redone with the xs, because it was originally confusing, I know.

Thanks for sticking with me!