Author's Note: The song "You Were Meant for Me" is from the 1929 film The Broadway Melody. To hear Gene Kelley sing it, go to YouTube (watch?v=zHPnl43_N4o)

The song "Cheek to Cheek" is from the 1935 Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers film Top Hat. To watch them sing and dance to it as only Fred and Ginger can, go to YouTube (watch?v=ILxo-TUkzOQlist=RD0QYdcHQXwdMindex=2)

Chapter 11: Wedding Bell Blues

Kurt sagged, worn out and haggard, as he stood before the door of the Hummel's Manhattan penthouse suite. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, nervous about seeing Blaine again after all this time and trying not to think about his final performance, where he couldn't help but glance into the wings, irrationally expecting to see a certain someone watching, and then, when that person wasn't there, getting all choked up and fighting back tears mid-song. It was a disaster! The audience, not sure how react, nevertheless applauded politely. Lauren threw her powerful arms around him the minute he stepped off stage and held him as he struggled to get his emotions under control.

This morning had been awful, too. Kurt always knew saying goodbye to the troupe would be hard, he'd grown so fond of everyone. But all the hugs and watery smiles and well-wishes left him feeling like he was abandoning his best friends, letting everyone down. Before he rode away in the Rolls Royce his father had sent to the theater to pick him up, Ms. Beiste told him, "I don't know what plans you had before you joined us, whether you were going to be some big corporate executive or Wall Street broker. But you're an amazing performer, Kurt. Don't stop. The stage is in your blood now, and it will always call to you no matter where you are. Might as well be in the right place."

Her words echoed in Kurt's mind as he reached for the knob, but before he could turn it, the penthouse door swung open wide.

"Kurt!" Burt enveloped his son in a crushing bear hug. "God, kiddo, I'm glad you're okay! Don't ever give your old man a scare like that. I had half the P.I.s in America scouring the country for you, you know."

"I'm sorry, Dad," Kurt mumbled into the crook of his father's neck. "I didn't mean to worry you. I should have at least left a note."

"Yeah, I know. But I guessed where you were headed. After you called few days ago, I took the first flight here I could get."

They held each other tight. It had been just the two of them in this world for a long time before Carol and Finn came along, and the bond between father and son was very deep.

"I still don't like him," Burt said, pulling back at last. "But if Blaine is who you want, I'll accept it. I don't want anything to come between us."

Kurt's mouth twitched up in a brief smile. "Thanks, Dad," he said quietly. "That means a lot."

Burt furrowed his brow in concern. "You don't sound so enthusiastic, buddy."

"I'm just tired. Didn't sleep much last night, and this morning I had to say goodbye to my friends."

"Yeah, I want to hear more about this whole vaudeville thing. I had no idea you were good enough to sing on stage."

"And dance." Technically, it was a striptease, but Kurt wasn't going to admit that to his father.

"And dance," Burt amended. "Wish I could have seen that. Well, I guess I'll have my chance at the wedding, eh?"

Kurt perked up. He hadn't thought of that, but sure, he and Blaine could sing and dance together at the wedding! Not the Bolero, of course, Kurt would never perform that again. But something elaborate and classy that would show what a great duo he and Blaine were. "You bet!" he said enthusiastically. "Gosh, I need to see Blaine right away. Now that you're okay with it, there's so much to do before the wedding."

"There's just one thing," Burt said awkwardly. He picked a packet up off the hallway table and held it out reluctantly. "This came for you this morning. It's from that reporter."

Kurt's heart beat hard in his chest as he took the packet, knowing instantly what it was. The article. The tell-all. The cheap exposé. He imagined Sebastian with a smarmy smirk, winking at him, rubbing Kurt's face in the fact he'd been a chump. "Did you read it?" Kurt asked glumly.

"I'd like to, but that's your call," Burt replied. "Gotta say, though, he wasn't what I expected, your reporter. He had some… class."

"He's not my reporter. And yeah, he can be charming when he wants. To get what he wants." Kurt heaved a sigh. It was all a con. "Had me completely fooled."

He stared at the packet in his hands, wanting to rip it to shreds. He opened it instead. Pulling the papers out, he looked at the cover page, which was hand-written in bold, flowing script.

Dear Kurt,

All I can say is I'm sorry. Please believe I never meant to hurt you. Here's the story, which isn't going to be published anywhere, don't worry. Your father saw to that. Consider it a wedding present. Despite how things ended, I will always treasure our time together. You are an amazing man, Kurt, and I sincerely wish you every happiness.

Sebastian

You are an amazing man. Kurt couldn't face those words and all that they implied. He shook his head and handed the manuscript to Burt. "I don't want this," he said flatly. "I don't care if you read it, just throw it away when you're done."

Blaine, Kurt told himself, focus on Blaine. Put the past three weeks behind you and concentrate on the wedding. Everything is going to be fine.

It turned out Blaine had very definite plans for the wedding and wasn't shy about pushing them on Kurt. First and foremost, he was committed to the idea of using it as a springboard to launch his Broadway career, and had a long list of stars, directors, and producers he wanted on the guest list.

"Mercedes Jones has agreed to perform, so that'll draw in a lot of people," he said eagerly as they sat together in Blaine's apartment. "We won't stint on anything – flowers, suits, wedding favors, all of it!" Kurt realized with some irritation that by "we" Blaine meant Kurt, who would be paying for this extravaganza. "And we must have press coverage. You know, really make a splash. I'll sing "You Were Meant for Me" from The Broadway Melody. It's the perfect song to showcase my range. And –"

"Actually, Blaine," Kurt said firmly, "I was thinking we could duet. Something like "Cheek to Cheek" from Top Hat, complete with a dance, although not as elaborate as Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, of course."

"Why on earth would we want to do that?" asked Blaine, genuinely puzzled.

"Because you're right – the wedding is a good opportunity to showcase both our talents. I've realized I love performing and I want to keep on doing it. Think of it – both of us on Broadway! Maybe even staring in the same show sometimes!"

Blaine frowned. "But Kurt, honey," he said with a hint of impatience, "being in show business has been my dream for years. Up until three weeks ago, you never gave it a second thought. Don't take this the wrong way, babe, but just because you're good enough to please hicks in the sticks doesn't mean you can make it in Manhattan."

That hurt. "'Don't take this the wrong way'?" Kurt spit back angrily. "Is there a right way to take that statement? I mean, yes, this is all new to me, but Blaine, I love it! It's scary and exhilarating and makes me feel fully alive. And I'm talented, Blaine! This is my dream now, too, and I'm not giving it up." Kurt looked pleadingly into Blaine's eyes. "Don't you see, it's a dream we can share."

Blaine held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, sweetheart, alright. But not at the wedding, okay? I mean, of course we'll dance. A waltz or something. But no duet, Kurt. Your voice just isn't the same quality as mine. Don't you want me to look good in front of everyone?"

This had Kurt steaming. "Oh, so you're saying I'd make you look bad?"

Seeing he was just riling his fiancé up even more, Blaine tried a different tack. "Where's all this coming from, honey?" he asked in an artificially soothing tone. "It's that reporter, isn't it? He's filled your head with all these foolish notions. You must realize he was just buttering you up to get his story."

"Yes, Sebastian was completely supportive," Kurt shot back defensively. "But so was Rachel Berry, and she used to be on Broadway. And the manager would never have put me on stage if she didn't think I could do it. Trust me, 'hicks in the sticks' as you call them have no compunction about booing or throwing peanut shells or just plain walking out when your act stinks. To them, every penny counts, so if they've splurged on a show and it's just mediocre they don't politely suffer through it like rich Broadway audiences do."

"I see this means a lot to you," Blaine said, still trying to placate him. He draped his arm across Kurt's shoulder and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Tell you what, let's get my career going first, and then we'll work on yours. Sound good?"

Maybe three weeks ago, maybe even two weeks ago, Kurt would have agreed. Maybe two weeks ago he might have even accepted Blaine's unflattering assessment of his performing skills. But to be so dismissive when he had never so much as seen Kurt on a professional stage – it was so insulting! Kurt was willing to give Blaine the world for the rest of his life, and here Blaine wouldn't even give Kurt a duet on their wedding day. Santana's words echoed in his head, "Your fancy fiancé – does he treat you with respect?" It was a cruel shock to fully grasp, but no, no he didn't. Not now. Maybe he never had. Maybe the 'love' they'd shared for all these months was just another man in Kurt's life pulling a con. Or Kurt conning himself.

Regardless, Kurt was putting a stop to it. His father, the vaudeville troupe, even Sebastian in his own way – they'd all taught him that he meant more, deserved more. An eerie calm settled over Kurt and he pulled away. He stood.

"I'm leaving now. The wedding is off."

Blaine stared up at him in shock. "But Kurt –"

"No 'buts', Blaine. Find yourself another meal ticket." And with that, Kurt walked out the door.