Chapter 8: A Hand to Hold or Hell to Pay

Blaine slipped through the front doors of Trees Lounge a few minutes after eight, just in time to catch the opening beats of 'Life After You.'

Ten miles from town and I just broke down

Spittin' out smoke on the side of the road

It didn't take long for him to find her and make his way over to her in the little crowd. She was standing closer to the back with Adam and Kurt, wearing a simple black dress and little gold flats, and he could tell she was nervous when he met her gaze by the way she'd started playing with her hair. Adam seemed his usual relaxed self, but Kurt was standing a little apart from his best friend and boyfriend, looking strangely edgy; there was something unmistakably jittery in the way he was rocking back and forth on the heels of his boots as he stared at the band.

After the life we've been through, yeah

Know there's no life after you

As everyone applauded, he raised his eyes to the front of the crowd, and found Santana's head close to the edge of the little stage.

"Rachel," he said over the sound of applause, and both Adam and Kurt turned around curiously, "I'm going up to the front, where Santana is. Do you want to come with…?"

"I – thank you, but I think I'd like to stay a little farther back," she replied after a beat, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear; it was difficult to read her tone.

"Are you sure? I think the three of you would be able to see better up there," said Adam encouragingly.

"It's okay," said Blaine as she shook her head, biting her lip, "it's okay. I'm heading up, but make sure you stay through the next couple of songs at least – I'll catch you very soon."

He reached Santana's side just as the lead singer started up on the first verse of 'Over You,' and made eye contact with the man. Silently, Blaine raised two fingers in front of his eyes, palm facing inward. After a few beats, the guy nodded, head tilted to the side, and held up one finger as the band launched into the chorus. Blaine understood what he meant: show starts after this one.

Well, I never saw it coming

I should've started running

A long, long time ago

He looked sideways to see if his usually observant friend had noticed the exchange; apparently she hadn't. She was mouthing along to the words next to him, eyes oddly bright. He slipped his arm around her shoulders, and she threw hers around his waist after a few seconds.

I'm slowly getting closure

I guess it's really over

I'm finally getting better

And now I'm picking up the pieces

I'm spending all of these years

Putting my heart back together

Santana's shoulders were shaking a little, and he tightened his arm around her, turning to glance back at Rachel. She was staring straight ahead at the band, nodding along silently.

'Cause the day I thought I'd never get through,

I got over you

He could barely hear the sound of applause that filled the room; all he could hear was his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. The lead singer, Marc, was pulling the microphone out of its stand, walking toward the edge of the stage; silently, he held out his hand to Blaine, and Santana slowly disengaged from him, letting the singer haul him up onto the platform.

"So we're going to treat you all to something a little different for 'Feels Like Tonight,'" Marc was saying into the microphone, hand resting firmly on his shoulder. "This fellow is Blaine Anderson, all the way from New York, and when he approached us earlier today to see if he could dedicate the next song to a special someone here in the audience tonight, we found out he's got a great voice. Great enough to lead these guys, even, so I'm going to sit this one out. Blaine, take it away."

Slowly, he took the mike, tucking it back into the stand. "Thanks, Marc." He let his eyes flicker over Santana in the front, who was wearing an expression of surprise and mild approval, and then to the three who were still standing closer to the back. He looked first at Adam, who was nodding at him; trained his eyes next over Kurt, who was surveying him with an inscrutable countenance; and finally made eye contact with Rachel. She was staring at him, right hand resting over her mouth with her fingers curled in a little fist.

"This is for you, Rachel," he said simply as the guys behind him started up their electric guitars.

You, you got me

Thinking it'll be all right

You, you told me,

'Come and take a look inside'

You believed me,

In every single lie

But I, I failed you this time

She was standing frozen in place, wide eyes filled with all the emotions she could never contain, never shut out when it came to song.

And it feels like tonight

I can't believe I'm broken inside

He kept his gaze on her as he leant into the mike, voice soaring passionately.

Can't you see that there's nothing that I wanna do,

But try to make it up to you?

And it feels like tonight,

Tonight

He closed his eyes, thinking about the taste of her on his tongue and the feel of her body under his, soft and warm against stiff hotel room sheets. He thought about the way her hands ran up and down his chest and bunched in his shirt when she kissed him, about that laugh of hers and the sofa in her New York environment where she sat in his lap for hours once after ditching a cast party, breath tickling his ear.

I never felt like this before

Just when I leave, I'm back for more

Nothing else here seems to matter

In these ever-changing days,

You're the one thing that remains

I could stay like this forever

He opened his eyes – looking back at her, pleading with her.

'Cause there's nothing that I wanna do,

But try to make it up to you

And it feels like tonight

The next several moments – descending the stage to loud cheers and applause, Santana's encouraging hand resting briefly on his elbow as he passed her, Adam and Kurt slipping surreptitiously away out of his field of vision as he approached – seemed to pass by in a blur of sound and pressure and color, until he was standing directly in front of her. She was standing in place with her hands balled into fists at her sides, face white and eyes extremely bright.

He reached out slowly, drawing her body to his so he could whisper in her ear. "Can we talk – side room, it'll be easier to hear…"

She was shaking so much in his arms that he felt his heart ache more than ever, but she nodded once against his shoulder, and let him lead her into the side room with her hand tucked into his.

He shut the door behind them just after the band started up on 'What About Now,' with Marc on lead vocals again. "Sit with me, please?" he said softly, sinking down on a chair in the small room and tugging her very gently onto his lap when she didn't let go of his hand.

"Why?" she whispered, eyes half-closed and forehead resting lightly against his, and he reached up with the hand that wasn't holding hers to tuck a strand of brown hair behind her ear.

"I've been a little oblivious of late," he whispered back, "and more than a little blind, and perhaps I still am. I still don't know what we are or what we could be. But I'd like to think I understand your feelings by now – and maybe I haven't completely figured out how to label mine, but I know what I feel when we're together and it's crazy and powerful and unlike anything I've ever really felt before. And I would be unfair to you, unfair to us, by letting the social constructs I've allowed to define me for twenty-seven years prevent me from giving this a real chance."

"I know you don't want to just fool around anymore," he continued, emotionally, "and I don't either. It's not right to throw away the possibility of something deeper, not when there's even a fraction of a chance that we could be so much more to each other. I want to take you out on a date when we get back to New York – a real one. I won't be able to afford more than the occasional Sardi's outing on my salary, but you said you don't feel the need to go there as much in person now that they've promised you a sketch to grace the wall, and I know a handful of little speakeasies you've never been to in the Village that are much more private and have this cozy romantic vibe I think you'd love. There's one right by the apartment I'm moving into, so we could go back to my place after and watch Love Story, just as we did on our first 'date' – but this time around, I promise to hold your hand during the entire movie and kiss away your tears at the end. Is that okay? Please say yes."

He waited, heart racing in his chest; she was silent for a full, long minute. Then she sat back, raising her eyes to his – wide and vulnerable and so beautiful.

"It would be unfair to me," she echoed his soliloquy in a quiet, uncharacteristically slow voice. "It's not right to throw away possibilities when there might be a fraction of a chance we could work. So we'll humor each other – you'll humor me? Is that all this is to you?"

"No," he said in a rush, horrified, "I'm not humoring – Rachel, baby, I told you I want this too, you heard me, didn't you?"

" 'I failed you this time,' " she continued, ignoring him, voice rising steadily as she quoted the song. " 'There's nothing that I wanna do / but try to make it up to you.' Make it up to me. Blaine, I want to believe that you want this as much as I do, anything close to as much as I do, but I can't, I just can't believe that you're doing this for any other reason that you feel you owe me something."

"You can't or you won't?" he said in frustration, voice rising too. "Why won't you trust that I'm crazy about you, Rach? I can't promise you that this is going to be anything close to perfect or that I'm not going to screw up because apparently I screw up all the time, but –"

"It's myself I don't trust," she said, shaking her head, and he counted three tears escaping down her cheek before she wrested herself out of his arms and turned toward the door. "I've only truly been in love once in my life before now and I can't begin to understand when it happened but I'm falling in love with you, Blaine. And while your voice and your foolish bravery frankly take my breath away, there's nothing you've done or said today that's convinced me I'll be able to continue on this path and not allow myself to get extremely, irrevocably heart-broken in the end."

She pulled the heavy door open, gold flats skidding over the floor of the main room as she fought her way past a startled-looking Kurt and Adam to the exit. He leapt to his feet and followed, stunned.

"Rachel!" he called after her, desperately, but his words were drowned in the swelling sound of the band.

What if you're making me all that I was meant to be?

What if our love never went away?

What if it's lost behind words we could never find?

The main doors swung closed behind her retreating form, and he collapsed into the nearest chair with his face in his hands.

Baby, before it's too late,

Baby, before it's too late,

Baby, before it's too late,

What about now?

XXXXX

He was shaking, literally shaking with self-hatred. How had he made her cry again, how had he managed to screw this up yet another time?

Somewhere in front of him, the band started up a slower, sweeter rock ballad.

I'm staring out into the night,

Trying to hide the pain

He took three long, shuddering breaths, and to his great horror, felt hot tears start up in his eyes.

"Blaine? Blaine, shh, it'll be okay, it's going to be okay…"

A familiar pair of arms had encircled him. Kurt was kneeling next to his chair, holding him, rubbing comforting patterns into his back and shoulders.

"Why can't I get anything right?" he blurted out, wiping his tears away angrily as Kurt continued to rub his back, making soothing noises. "I lost you, I lost Rachel, at this rate I'm going to drive everyone in my life away because I can't fucking keep it together –"

"Blaine, you are much more often right than you are wrong," said Kurt softly, still hugging him close. "It's just the complications of being the person you are and living out the situations you get yourself in, dear. And unless I'm mistaken, you haven't lost Rachel."

"Did you not see the exact same thing I just saw now?" he said, a little more hysterically than he'd intended. "Because I'm pretty sure –"

"Shh, calm down honey, I'll tell you what I mean, but you have to come dance with me for this song, okay?"

He laughed bitterly. "Kurt, I don't think a pity dance is going to solve –"

"This isn't a pity dance, silly, it's just for old times' sake, now come on," said Kurt, trying to tug him to his feet.

"Won't Adam –"

"Adam went after Rachel to make sure she got back to the hotel safely, and anyway I'm pretty confident that one dance with a guy he genuinely likes is not going to be a problem. Come on, up you get."

He sighed. "Okay."

They fell into their old slow-dance positions by default – his arms around Kurt's waist, Kurt's arms looped around his shoulders, even though it never really made complete sense (as Puck had unhelpfully pointed out at Kurt's senior prom, "because even though Kurt's more like the girl, he's also kind of taller than you, bro, and girls are usually shorter than dudes, so it's awkward when they lead"). Kurt tightened his arms around him, comfortingly, and he let himself close his eyes.

The miles are getting longer, it seems,

The closer I get to you

I've not always been the best man or friend for you

But your love remains true

And I don't know why

You always seem to give me another try

He didn't think she was going to give him another try.

"I know you think I don't understand what you're going through," said Kurt, suddenly. "And I don't understand a lot of it. But if there's one thing I can appreciate, it's the way Rachel Berry can get under your skin."

"Surely you aren't talking from experience. She's your best friend," he said, not comprehending.

"Yes, but she's more than that," admitted Kurt. "Don't get me wrong, it's nothing like what you're probably thinking, but it's not totally conventional either. So you know how Rachel and Adam are both the types to go all out on stage, when they're in their characters, and the director totally encourages it – I'm talking an extremely sexually-awakened Maria and Tony –"

Blaine couldn't help but grin a little, in spite of himself. He definitely remembered a scene or two in Rachel and Adam's production with a risqué factor that went well beyond the show's tame original.

"–and sometimes if Adam is rushing over to my place to spend the night after an evening show, he'll just do a quick change of clothes and makeup removal without showering, and I can faintly smell Rachel's perfume on him when we're together – I'd recognize it anywhere since she only wears the brand I recommended for her a few years ago. I make fun of him for it all the time, tease him about having an affair with his co-star behind my back, but even though it's twisted I actually love being intimate with him when I can smell her on his skin. He totally clued into it after a few weeks of this happening, because they pranked me with Rachel spritzing half a bottle on him before a date."

Kurt always knew how to make him feel less screwed up. "Hey, if I'd known you were into that, Artie would have been a lot more satisfied with the level of passion in our West Side Story rehearsals," he said, starting to laugh as Kurt poked him in the side.

"She's not going to shut you out forever, Blaine," said Kurt more seriously, after a pause. "She's just afraid. Deep down, she's the kind of girl who just wants true love and a happy ending, and she's afraid you can't give her that."

"Well, she's probably right to be afraid of that," he said dully. "How am I supposed to promise her any of those things when I'm not even sure if what I feel for her is love, in the right sense of the word?"

"Well," said Kurt slowly, "let's start simple. How did you feel just now, when she walked out that door?"

"I felt" – he hesitated, searching for the right words – "felt that the best part of me was walking right out that door and that I'd screwed it all up and I hated myself for it, hated everything that was left. I felt how much I'd wanted her to say yes, even though I'd practically done it on a whim – I felt crushed even though I wasn't even fifty percent confident it would work when I devised this stupid plan on no sleep at all. I felt that I couldn't believe how beautiful she looked when she cried, but that I'd give anything to be the guy that held her and kissed her and made her smile again."

Kurt was silent for a few, long moments. Then he let out a deep breath, and Blaine looked up to see a soft smile crossing his lips. "Well, if I had to describe that little soliloquy in a word, I don't know what other one I'd use."

He felt a sudden rush of emotion, felt the tears starting in his eyes again. "You're kind of perfect, you know that?"

"Yes, well, you used to tell me so in song," Kurt smiled. "With a little help from Ms. Alecia Beth Moore."

"Well, you are perfect," he said honestly, "and Kurt, I'm so glad the guy you're in love with knows that you are, genuinely knows it, because I wouldn't be able to stand it if he didn't."

Kurt looked at him seriously, eyes suddenly wide and expressive and vulnerable.

"Can I tell you a secret, Blaine?"

"Anything," he assured him, giving Kurt's waist an affectionate squeeze.

"It's about Adam. I'm strongly considering – as of a couple of hours ago – a bit of a grand gesture."

"I like the sound of that. Do continue."

XXXXX

Kurt slid slowly down the wall to sit on the floor outside his hotel room. He could hear the soft sound of Adam singing a rendition of 'America' with gorgeous tonal quality and an endearingly awful Puerto Rican accent through the closed door.

Frantically, he pulled out his phone and drafted a quick text message.

To: Blaine

I don't think I can do this.

His hand hovered, shaking, over the send button, but he couldn't bring himself to hit it. One minute. Two minutes.

Just when he thought he was going to go crazy from indecision, a notification popped up. He seized desperately on the incoming text message.

From: Blaine

10:32pm

COURAGE!

He laughed out loud. Of course.

Blaine was right, always had been. He could do this.

He stood up, bravely, and pushed open the door.

"Kurt, is that you?"

"It's me," he said quietly.

"Hey, you," Adam said, emerging shirtless in the doorway to pull him in and shut the door, pressing him lightly against it in the way they always played around when one of them came in after the other, and leaning in to kiss him on the mouth. Kurt smiled against his boyfriend's lips, losing himself for a minute in the deliciously taut lines of Adam's chest and stomach under his fingers.

"Mm, you're distracting me," he said softly, as Adam started working the top buttons of his shirt in between kisses.

"I'm sorry, baby," said Adam gently, pulling back. "Did you want to talk about something? Are you tired?"

"Yes, I did," he said, reaching up to touch his boyfriend's face, silently assuring him that everything was okay, "and no, I'm not tired, not for you, but I want to talk before. Can we cuddle on the couch for a little bit? Preferably with your top still off, because you are quite the sight for sore eyes," he added more lightly, giving Adam a little kiss on the jaw.

"Of course."

"Is Rachel okay?" he asked when they were curled up together on the loveseat. He had to wait for the right moment to talk about them; their friends should come first.

"She's not great," said Adam gently, "but she will be. She had at least stopped crying by the time Santana came by to pick her up."

"Okay," he said, feeling his face fall a little at the thought of a miserable Rachel.

Adam kissed his shoulder comfortingly. "How's Blaine?"

"Heartbroken," he answered softly. "I know it sounds strange, but I think this might be the real deal for him."

"I wish they'd stop dancing around each other," said Adam with a sigh. "It always has to be so complicated, doesn't it?"

"Mm," he said absently. "Except sometimes it isn't, and it's simple and easier than you ever thought it would be and nothing short of perfect."

"Like you and I," said Adam simply, and just like that, those old lyrics were running through Kurt's head: Something, something about this place. Something, something about just knowing when it's right.

"Yes," he said with a deep, shaky, relieved breath because it just made sense, everything about this moment, everything about them, "you and I, yes" – and he leaned in to kiss his boyfriend slowly, deeply, trying to convey every emotion that he needed to express tonight in the gesture.

"I know you're thinking of that Lady Gaga song," Adam murmured, "and you know what I love about that song? The way she sings about all these little things bringing her back to her guy, reminding her of him, like whiskey and rock 'n roll and muscle cars and the hum of a guitar. There are so many things that make me think of you no matter where I am, that'll always pull on my heartstrings – like plaid suits and suspenders," he added with an affectionate smile, making Kurt laugh softly and rest his forehead against his, "because you won't wear them outside the house since they're two seasons ago, but you'll wear them inside just for me since I think you look sexy in them – and chocolate-covered strawberries because they're the only snack you can't resist even a little bit, and benches in the Park because we kissed and held hands for the first time in public on one, and young starlets because you always compare them unfavorably with Rachel when they're out of earshot no matter how nice they are, and the line in that Matt Nathanson song that talks about everything working in someone's arms because everything does, in yours."

"I love you so much," said Kurt softly, "so much, and you're everything to me" – he reached out for Adam's hands, holding them tightly in his and blinking back his tears – "Adam, I've been thinking about it all day, about us, and the thought came to me that – no wait, this is coming out all wrong, I – baby, I need to tell you something, need to ask you something, but I'm terrible at this and I'm not saying it right and I just need a minute –"

"Shh," said Adam, squeezing his hands as he started to panic again, "you can tell me or ask me anything, at your own pace, and I promise I'll still be right here holding you, okay?"

"Okay," he whispered, taking courage, "good, because I want you to be."

He was silent for a minute, collecting his thoughts.

"Okay," he resumed, "so you know how I Skyped my parents and Finn and Katie from my phone when you went for a run with Rachel today?"

"Mm-hmm. Was it about what you thought it would be?"

"Yes," he laughed, "yes, I'm going to be an uncle, and everyone was so excited, and it was nice. But I couldn't help feeling a little weird now that it's confirmed and definite because it's Finn, you know? I always thought he'd be the last of our Glee class to really grow up – Noah Puckerman aside – and I'm so happy for him, but it was a little odd. I think Dad noticed something in my expression because he called me after Finn and Katie left, asked if I wanted to chat or if anything was up. And I asked him if Finn was growing up faster than he and Carole had expected, too, with the wedding and baby and all."

"What did he say?" Adam asked, gently.

"He laughed and said, 'Kid, we're not really a family that's known for taking things slow.' He reminded me of how quickly he and Carole had gotten engaged – how other than an ill-advised hook-up with a closeted lesbian, Finn only ever had really serious girlfriends, three of them, and two of them were in high school – how I'd rushed off to New York at the first opportunity and I've been one of the youngest guys in my field since I broke into the fashion industry. He said it's – it's because we have a history of loss in our family, losing my mom and Finn's dad. If there's anything we've learned it's that when we find something that makes us feel more complete, more whole again – 'and you know how long it took me to find Carole, you know what my life was like after your mother,' he said – we cling to it, we cling to the possibility of a future with it."

He was starting to cry a little, but not too much, and he was grateful that Adam just held his hands more tightly and didn't try to interrupt. It was important that he keep going.

"And after talking to Dad, I couldn't help thinking about my friends, the ones I've been closest to since high school – the New York gang, the ones here with us now – and they're all so successful and wonderful on their own, but they're all still searching for something. When I think about them that way, all I see is Santana's fear that she might have lost her one shot at something real when she broke up with Brittany, and Blaine's struggle to come to terms with the fact that his current motivations and desires don't look or feel much like the ones he thought he had for the past twenty-seven years, and most of all Rachel's tragic need to defend against having a boy break her heart by breaking it herself first. It's all the same in some way – they're all searching for some sort of proof that maybe there's someone they want to move forward with and have a future with.

"And here I am, happier than I ever thought I'd be, with you," he added softly, looking meaningfully into his boyfriend's eyes, "and I don't mean to patronize my friends for the world, but the truth is I'm not worried about my future anymore, only about theirs. Sometimes I'm flat-out scared that Rachel's more vulnerable and broken than anyone other than me can understand, and my heart bled for Blaine too when she left, he was so crushed, Adam. But when I really let myself think about my own personal life – in a way I tend to avoid because it's going so well and I figure why change it – it doesn't take a whole lot of soul-searching to realize I want a lot of new things, too. I've always wanted a lot of new things, honey.

"And my dad's right," he said finally, tightening his grip on Adam's hands, "that the thought of moving forward isn't scary, shouldn't be scary – because it's the missed opportunities and the moments we might never have that we'll regret most in the end. Adam, I want us to get married – if you'll marry me – and not just someday, I don't need to wait anymore…not when I know how much we mean to each other and not when I'm not afraid anymore."

"I know it's sudden," he started rambling as his boyfriend stared at him with an expression that could only be described as shell-shocked, "and I didn't have time to order any rings, and I've always said that I wouldn't want to have an engagement longer than six months, which means we can't have a summer wedding and that seriously limits the number of possible themes – maybe a destination wedding though? – and oh my god, you haven't said yes, which probably means talking about wedding themes is a pointless exercise and this was the most ridiculous idea ever so can we please just go back to what we were doing before and forget this ever – "

But then Adam was all but crushing him in his arms, crying harder than he was for the first and probably the last time in their lives together, but laughing at the same time, kissing him so hard it hurt, and he knew before Adam had the chance to catch his breath to reply that this moment was going straight to the top of the growing list of things in Kurt Hummel's life that had gone so, so right.

"Yes. Yes, god yes."

XXXXX

Look who's going to be married by thirty – legally! I love writing Kurt in this fic. There's something that touches me about the idea of a future Kurt whose feeling of genuine self-worth and his emotional fortunes, so to speak, have changed so dramatically for the better that he almost needs as much time to adjust to happiness and stability as he needed to adjust to the reverse.

Next chapter: Back in New York, Santana receives a surprise visitor who just may help her get the closure she needs; after a little soul-searching of her own, Rachel finds herself jamming with a couple of familiar ex-Warblers at Blaine's apartment. The upcoming chapter is technically the penultimate installment (with the final, tenth one structured more like an epilogue), and may or may not include a make-out session on a fire escape. :-)