This is a strange and sad week. It's easy to assume celebrities, particularly young, nice people who bring a lot of laughter into the world, are untouchable. Rest in peace, Cory. May your awkward dancing entertain as many folks upstairs as it did down here.

I've been playing a game of 'how many chapters can I make it until there's finally some kind of physical contact.' Apparently, the answer is 11. Happy reading~


11.

Blaine's life had fallen into a kind of peaceful lull. He usually sleeps in until eight or nine o'clock, and spent the first half of his day doing whatever he felt like, which was usually visiting friends or going to the gym or seeing matinees.

On weekdays at three he'd go and pick Adele up from school. They'd sometimes go out to the park or the cinema but most afternoons they just went back to Kurt's place. In the hours until Kurt arrived home from work, Blaine would do everything from helping Adele with homework to reluctantly joining in with her princess-themed tea parties.

He was free to leave as soon as Kurt returned, but he never left then, always staying much later. Every day, he felt as if he was slowly chipping away at the other man's tense demeanour. When they had first met, Blaine had been stunned and more than a little intimidated by his coldness, and the ferocity with which he protected Adele. He had been compassionate enough not to retaliate because he knew why Kurt had acted that way, but that didn't make Blaine any more comfortable.

Now, it was as if he was seeing a new side to him. Kurt remained quiet, thoughtful, but it was as if he was making a serious effort to hide his melancholy. At least, from Adele.

He listened to her when she spoke, asked her about her day, engaged in tickle fights, took an interest in her current music obsessions and read to her at bed time every night without fail. Every time she laughed, Kurt smiled for her, calm and content. Even though those expressions weren't directed at Blaine, they still warmed him like the sun.

Still, Blaine would often catch him staring off into the distance, completely lost. Once, he walked in on Kurt stood in the bedroom, holding one of the many framed photographs of his husband, staring down at the picture like a drowning man. He'd jerked up ramrod straight when he noticed Blaine's appearance. Blaine tried to apologise for intruding, but Kurt had forced a sound far too mournful to be a laugh, and set the picture back in its place on the night stand. "Guess I should take these down some day." He said.

On the weekends when Blaine had his days off, he was restless. He prowled around his apartment like a caged tiger, anxious. What was Kurt doing right now? Did he need any help? Was he even anything close to being happy?

It was always a huge relief on Monday evenings, when Blaine could see him again. Even if Kurt was miserable, at least he'd know.

On that first night when Kurt had come home from work, weary but no less God damned gorgeous, he'd pulled off his tie to make himself a little more comfortable. That single movement and the exposure of his pale throat had made Blaine's chest growl with want. Life was so, so unfair.

But as long as he can manage to push down his inappropriate feelings, he knows he's got it good.


It's a Friday in November and Blaine is taking Adele the long way home through the park. Blaine thinks about objecting because it's starting to get colder now and Adele forgot her gloves and warm, furry hat. He doesn't want the kid to get frost bite or anything, but she insists. She's got that look, that tight shut mouth and steely frown, and Blaine knows it's just easier to agree.

He lets her go on ahead a little, watching her kick up tornadoes of dry leaves at the edge of the path. And he totally scuffs a pile up with his own feet by accident, because he's an adult now and adults don't get excited over stepping on the crunchiest leaves. The girl's movements are restricted by the thickness of her winter coat but she doesn't let that slow her down, and leaps around with the energy and delight only small children have.

By the time they get home, Adele's shoes are caked in dirt, which Kurt will definitely not approve of, but Blaine figures she may as well make the most of it, while she can. Overhead, rain clouds are gathering. It's scheduled to pour down tonight so by the morning, the leaves will be all slimy and stuck to the concrete. No fun at all.

In the narrow corridor outside the apartment, Blaine reaches into his pocket for his key… And stops when he notices light under the door. Somebody's already inside.

"Did your Dad say he was coming home early today?"

Beside him, Adele shakes her head. "Nope."

Rachel is leaning against the kitchen counter with a glass of merlot in one hand and Finn is sitting at the table, script in hand. As they walk in, Blaine catches the tail end of him reciting a line that sounds like Phantom of the Opera.

It takes Adele all of half a second to dive across the room. "Aunt Rachel!" In her enthusiastic hug, the wine glass shudders and a little of the deep, fruity drink spills, blessedly on the tiles and not on Rachel's pristine baby blue dress.

"Careful, honey." Rachel chastises, but with a smile as sets the drink down so she can hug her back.

"Uncle Finn!" Finn is attacked next, her arms around his neck. He laughs his hello and pulls her up to sit on his knees.

"What are you doing here?" Adele asks, wide eyed.

"I'm going to sit in with you tonight, if that's okay with Blaine." Finn says, grinning.

"You are?" Blaine asks. He feels suddenly hurt. Did Finn not trust him or something? It's kind of late not to trust him now anyway, he's been taking care of Adele for weeks.

Rachel must have caught the look on his face because she says "We're here to surprise Kurt. And you." She beams at him and gestures to the open bottle near the sink. "Do you want a glass?"

"No, thanks. What surprise?"

"We figure Kurt's not going out much lately." Finn says. "And it's cool, y'know, we get it. But it'd be good if he went out some place other than work, and you need a night off too every once in a while dude."

"So," Rachel jumps in, like she's desperate to reveal the punch line, "You, Kurt and I are going to a fantastic karaoke bar that's just opened. It'll be fun!"

Blaine regards her warily. "So Kurt doesn't know about this?"

"That's why it's a surprise." Rachel says, her smile shrinking a little. "You don't think he'll like it?"

Blaine shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe. I mean, you know him better than I do."

"What about you?" Finn asks.

"I guess it sounds fun." Blaine says.

He's not spent more than a couple of hours with Rachel at a time before and although he both likes her and respects her talent, he feels a bit hesitant at the thought of hanging around with her when she's drunk. He still doesn't know her that well and it could be kind of awkward if he had to haul her into a cab or something. And God, he doesn't even know Kurt that well since most of their conversations are about Adele. Blaine is professional, painfully still aware he could ruin the peaceful balance between them. What if Blaine got drunk and puked on Kurt's shoes or something? So not attractive and so not the type of guy you want to trust with your child.

He thinks about that time Kurt came home so drunk he could barely stand and Blaine put him to bed. Alcohol was what had started the whole damn mess in Blaine's heart. Without that, Blaine would never have held Kurt so closely to himself or seen what he looked like sprawled in bed with tousled hair and closed eyes. More drinking did not seem a good idea.

"That's settled then." Rachel says, completely oblivious to his internal anxiety.

They spend the next couple of hours watching Tangled (another thing Adele has insisted on today) and unsurprisingly, she and Rachel sing all of Rapunzel's lines in perfect harmony, like they've done it a thousand times before. From the armchair in the corner, Finn gives Blaine a half-embarrassed, half-amused look over the top of the freshman papers he's marking as if to say 'women, huh?'

When they hear the creak of the front door at ten past six, Blaine is nervous. He doesn't want to make Kurt feel like they're ganging up on him or like Blaine is shirking his responsibilities.

It might be too late for that though because when Kurt sees them all sat around in front of the TV, two of his guests uninvited, he shoots Blaine an accusatory glare. Blaine tries not to shrink back into the couch cushions.

He sweeps into the room to kiss the top of Adele's head. "Hello, sweetheart."

"Hi, Daddy."

"Finn, Rachel," his smile is suspicious. "It's nice to see you."

"It's good to see you too, Kurt." Rachel says. "Now, go get changed."

Kurt arches one perfectly plucked eyebrow. "Why?"

"We're going out." Rachel says, "You, me and Blaine. Finn is going to stay here with Adele."

"I don't think so." Kurt's voice is firm. "I'm not really in the mood, Rachel."

Rachel folds her arms tightly over her chest. "Come on, Kurt. It'd be good for you."

"I think I know what's good for me." Kurt snaps.

"But Ku-urt," Rachel smirks as she plays her trump card. "Karaoke. I'll do a duet with you, whatever song you want. And I hear they do a great cosmopolitan. They remember the lime."

Kurt seems to be weighing it up; his pride and desire to stay at home versus a well-made cocktail. His eyes flicker from Rachel to Blaine and back again. "One drink." He says. "One song. Then I'm going home."


By the time Blaine has emptied his second pint glass at the back of Lou's Bar, Kurt is on his third drink and Rachel has taken back her promise of 'any song you want'.

"I'm not singing a Jean Valjean song with you." She cries, her shiny dark hair swishing around her shoulders as she shakes her head furiously. "This is so not the place for 'Bring Him Home'!"

"Yeah, yeah. You're just scared I'll make you look bad again, like I did in front of your NYADA friends when you first started."

"No! I'm just not in the mood tonight. Blaine, what do you think?"

Suddenly, two pairs of eyes are boring into him. "I don't know." Blaine says. "I guess… Maybe Rachel's right. Maybe this isn't the right place for Les Mis."

"There is never a wrong place for Les Mis." Kurt says, looking thoroughly offended.

At the same time, Rachel says "I never said that!"

Blaine tries not to groan and wishes he had another drink already. He was still way too sober for this. "If you can't agree on one, maybe you should just do a solo first?" he suggests.

"Great idea!" Rachel is instantly on her feet. "Think fast, Kurt. I'm gonna go put our names on the list."

Rachel goes first, naturally. She decides on Don't Rain On My Parade which Blaine adores. He's heard her sing before plenty of times, but this song suits her perfectly. She knows when to belt out the words and when to soften them, to make them mean something more.

After the applause has died down and Rachel is getting their next round at the bar, Kurt says mildly "You do know she's married to my brother, right?"

"What?" It takes a moment for Blaine to connect the dots. "Oh God, no. I'm- I'm not… I'm gay."

Kurt blinks. "Oh." Then, "Capri pants. Of course you are."

Blaine laughs, can't not. He isn't sure if it's the fact that he's not drank in a while or just the atmosphere brought by the dim lighting and smoke-sweat-yeast smell but he's already feeling a little tipsy, like everything is funnier than it should be.

Which could be why, still grinning, he confesses "I serenaded a guy at the Gap once."

Kurt looks positively scandalised. "You did not."

"I did. I brought the whole Warbler line up with me. When I Get You Alone."

"No. Did he like it?"

"It got him fired." Blaine says. "Turns out, he wasn't even gay." This would usually be the part of the story Blaine would be cringing at his stupidity and missing what a nice guy Jeremiah was still, even if he was straight. But this time it's just hilarious. "It's so stupid 'cause he had totally gay hair."

Rachel returns with a tray of shots and dumps it clumsily on the table. "What did you think?" she asks. She's bright eyes and excited, still not come down from the rush performing on stage, even such a small one, gave her.

"Fabulous, as always." Kurt says. He picks up one of the tiny glasses and lifts it in the air to toast "To marching the band out!" and knocks it back.

Blaine goes next, almost tripping on his way up to the microphone, pausing to glance back at Kurt and Rachel who both give him an enthusiastic thumbs up.

For a moment, Blaine considers a re-do of When I Get You Alone, just because he knows it'd make Kurt laugh some more but in the end, he opts for Teenage Dream because while Kurt and Rachel have a motto of musicals are always appropriate, Blaine feels that way about Katy Perry.

He can hear Kurt's cheers of "Bravo! Encore!" even from the other side of the room, even though it's crazily busy.

When he gets back to their table, he grabs Kurt's hand to pull him out of his chair and says "Your turn!"

Kurt sings a Beatles song, Blackbird. And yeah, The Beatles tracks are always classics but he was expecting something more theatrical from this man.

When the intro fades underneath Kurt's voice, Blaine stops clapping. He had always guessed Kurt would have a good voice, he can tell that by the lilting rise and fall of his words in ordinary conversation. But actually hearing it for himself is a different thing. It's not just about what he sounds like exactly, or his tone or flawless breath control. It's the emotion. Not just the sadness, because it is a sad song, but the understanding. It's honest and it's pure and it's not until the end of the final chorus that Blaine realises his own lips have been moving too.


By the time they manage to stumble outside, the rain has begun, bouncing back off the concrete like minute wet fireworks. At their insistence, Rachel takes the first cab because as Kurt puts it, those heels are not made for puddles. She waves to them out the window as the taxi drives off.

The second, Blaine makes Kurt get into. "My place is only roun' the corner." He says. "I'm gonna walk back."

"Y'sure?" Kurt slurs.

"'M sure." He pulls the yellow door open. "Go on, you're gonna get wet."

"I'm already wet." Kurt says, plucking his soaked shirt away from his skin. Blaine swallows against the dryness in his throat. Even drunk, he knows he shouldn't even look at the way the thin fabric clings, like it's barely there at all.

"Get in." Blaine says. He hopes his voice doesn't sound too hoarse.

"'Kay. 'Night Blaine." Kurt's eyes are on his and there's a droplet of water running down the side of his cheek.

"G'night." He knows it's time to step back now, the distance between them too easy to close. He's about to leave. He honestly is. Just go back to his apartment and see Kurt on Monday morning like he's supposed to. But as another drop skims near the corner of Kurt's mouth, how is he supposed to resist wiping it away? Just that. Just a touch, he promises himself.

What he doesn't expect is for Kurt to tilt his head just enough for his warm lips to brush Blaine's thumb. That alone could be an accidental movement, but when Kurt's mouth opens and his tongue flicks out, a hot, wet flash to draw one of Blaine's fingers in to gently suck, there's no way Blaine could be misreading the situation.

He pulls his hand away to cup the back of Kurt's head, and kisses him.

It's not like Blaine had imagined. In his mind, Kurt is more passive, more hesitant, but this is so, so much better. He tugs at Blaine's collar, keeping their bodies pressed together, responsive and needy. When Blaine bites down on Kurt's bottom lip, he tastes like cranberries.

It's the noise that separates them. The cab driver slams his hand down hard on the horn. "You getting in or what?" he shouts.

Blaine licks his lips as they pull apart. "Kurt." All at once he's both too sober and too drunk to find the right words. "Kurt, I- You-"

Kurt stares at him like he's never seen him before. He looks like he's about to throw up. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…I'm sorry."

"Kurt, wait-"

But Kurt is already climbing into the taxi. "I'm sorry." He says one last time before he shuts the door.

Blaine stands there, dumb and rooted to the spot as he watches them drive away. From somewhere in the distance, thunder rolls across the dark sky.