Blaine hopes that the "fish out of water" feeling will fade away soon, but he's been here in New York City for a week and he still feels completely out of his element. He has moved in temporarily with the female star of the show, Tina Cohen-Chang, while he looks for a more permanent apartment. Blaine hasn't even had a chance to meet the majority of the people that he's going to be working with. The main cast started rehearsals with the script last week, but the music isn't quite ready yet. Today's the first day where he'll meet up with the music director and finally have some information on his responsibilities.

He winds his way between the seats to the main stage. There's the usual bustle of the stagehands working on the sets and lighting, but the orchestra pit is empty and none of the actors or chorus are here yet. Blaine should have waited for Tina, but he was so excited and nervous for his first day that he had left their apartment shortly after sunrise, waiting impatiently across the street at a hole in the wall diner until the stage door was unlocked.

The brief email had instructed him to come to the rehearsal hall but, try as he might, he's unable to locate a room that would fit that description. There's the main stage, the storage section for the sets, and a large dressing area, but no rooms. He circles around.

"Excuse me," he touches the shoulder of a man passing by to grab his attention. "It's my first day and I'm—"

The man turns and Blaine's words catch in his mouth.

It's Kurt Hummel. Kurt Hummel whose face decorated a plaque outside of Blaine's office, dedicated to McKinley's most successful graduates, that Blaine passed every day. Kurt Hummel who has brought back Broadway's golden age with his ethereal voice and powerful acting and stunning profile and genuine kindness is standing in front of him. "Yes?"

"I'm … I'm Blaine." He recovers, a faint blushes rising to his cheeks (at least he hopes it's faint). "I'm the music. Music director, I mean, the assistant music director, and I'm a little lost."

Kurt holds out his hand and grips Blaine's in greeting. His handshake is firm and his hand is soft and warm and Blaine—

Blaine needs to concentrate on what Kurt's asking. "Where are you going?"

"The rehearsal room?" Blaine supplies. "I'm supposed to be meeting Brad there."

"It's in the basement. You take the stairs from the lobby but, come on, there's a short-cut back here." Kurt tugs on Blaine's hand and Blaine blushes again, realizing that he hadn't dropped it since then had shook hands.

"Thanks." Blaine mumbles, dropping his hand.

"I'm Kurt, by the way."

"I know," Blaine says and blushes deeper in mortification at sounding like a fanboy. "I mean. I recognized you from your picture."

Kurt laughs, a soft and warm sound, and Blaine instantly wants to make him laugh more. "I guess I have gotten to the recognizable stage. But I'm glad it wasn't because we had worked together in the past and I had forgotten you."

"No, this is my first show," Blaine admits. "At least here in New York."

"Did you just move here then?"

He nods as Kurt directs them down a narrow spiral staircase. "Yeah. From Ohio."

"Really? I'm from Ohio, too."

"I know. I mean. McKinley School of Performing Arts? I've taught there for the last five years. And your picture still hangs in the hall of fame."

"Mckinley? Really? My gosh, I haven't been back there in years. Is Will Schuester still the principal?"

"Yeah."

"Is he… oh, I shouldn't say this, but, um, he was a lousy teacher at times. Is he better as a principal?"

Blaine grins back. "Much. He still has blinders on but he responds to criticism and really supports his teachers."

"That's good to hear." They turn a corner and open a door to a large room encircled by mirrors, with tape on the floor and a piano in the corner. "And here we are! The rehearsal room, monsieur."

"Thanks so much. I'm not sure I would have found it on my own."

"Nah. Once Brad starts playing, we all seem to migrate down here. Can't help but be drawn to the music. We're like moths." He dimples a laugh and then waves to the older man who enters the room. "Oh, and here's Brad now. He's also never far from the piano. Hey Brad, this is Blaine."

"Blaine Anderson." Blaine greets, sticking his hand out to the man now perched on the piano. "Your assistant music director. We met at my audition a few weeks ago."

"I never said that I needed an assistant."

Blaine blinks at the blunt answer, slowly withdrawing his ignored hand. "Okay. But you were there at the audition. I mean, I'm not here to step on any toes or get into your way. Whatever vision you have, I want to help—"

"I don't like theater kids." Brad interrupts. "Just you wait, they'll turn you into a human jukebox, too."

Blaine blinks and throws a helpless look at Kurt.

"Aw, Brad, you know you love us." Kurt coos with a side wink to Blaine.

"All I want is to pay off my gambling debts. That's the only reason they dragged me into this again. And who knows if I'm ever going to get paid. It'll probably get closed before previews."

"You'll get paid," Kurt soothes. "This is going to be the hottest ticket for months, if not years."

"Yeah, that's what they always say." Brad grumbles.

"Well, the difference is that this time, they have Kurt Hummel starring in it. Meanwhile," He stares down Brad defiantly, "why don't we welcome Blaine and show him what we can do around here?"

Brad gives a huge sigh and starts playing.

Before Blaine can even process what is happening, Kurt is singing. "There were bells on the hill, But I never heard them ringing. No, I never heard them at all, 'Til there was you."

Blaine watches, mouth agape, as the most sultry, velvet-smooth voice comes out of Kurt. Blaine's heard his voice on official Broadway recordings, but that's a pale comparison to the beauty of hearing Kurt sing live.

Inspiration strikes as Kurt starts on the second verse and Blaine slides over to the piano, barely noticing as he nudges Brad out of the way.

"There were birds in the sky," Kurt continues, his voice pure and laced with the joy of performing. "But I never saw them winging, no, I never saw them at all - 'Til there was you."

"Well his face is a map of the world, is a map of the world," Blaine breaks in, and the band behind them matches his tempo, mixing in the K.T. Tunstall song. Kurt's eyes widen before he grins and slinks closer, leaning on the piano."You can see he is a beautiful boy, a beautiful boy and everything around him is a silver pool of light. The people who surround him feel the benefit of it. He holds you captivated in his palm."

"There was love all around," Kurt doesn't miss a beat. "But I never heard it singing. No, I never heard it at all. 'Til there was you."

"Suddenly I see (Suddenly I see)." Blaine blends in the chorus. "This is what I wanna be. Suddenly I see (Suddenly I see). Why the hell it means so much to me."

"There was love all around."

Blaine is drawn to his feet and he circles around Kurt, harmonizing with him. Dimly, he can hear Brad huff as he takes over on the piano again. "Suddenly I see."

"But I never heard it singing." Kurt drags a finger down his arm before flitting away.

"This is what I wanna be." Blaine answers, his feet helplessly following after.

"No, I never heard it at all."

"Suddenly I see."

"'Til there was you."

"Why the hell it means so much to me."

"'No I never saw it at all," Kurt shifts closer, a mere breath away, the flirtation evolving into something deeper.

"Suddenly I see." Blaine sings, hardly above a whisper.

"'Til there was you."

"Suddenly I see."

Brad loudly bangs out the last chord and Blaine jumps. He coughs, suddenly conscious and embarrassed by the number of people that had gathered while they were singing. "That was, wow, Kurt, that was amazing."

Kurt preens and then reaches over and straightens Blaine's bowtie. "It'll be fun working with you. Think you can find your way back, new kid?" He winks and saunters out of the room.

Tina runs over and gives him a hug, drawing away slowly and trailing a finger down his arm as she does. "Blaine! You're here! That was so amazing!"

Blaine hardly notices. "Tina." He breathes, staring at the space that Kurt has vacated. "I think I'm in love."

"Are you sure you don't want to come out with us tonight?" Tina frowns at the door. "Just for one drink?"

Blaine smiles warmly from his position on the couch. "I'm sure."

"It'd be good for you to get to know the cast and crew and, you know, meet other people." Tina presses on. "Loosen up a bit before the drudgery of rehearsals consumes us all and we hate each other's guts because we spend 12 hours a day with each other."

Blaine shakes his head firmly. "I still haven't had a chance to unpack all of my clothes and set up my keyboard. And I kinda just want an evening alone. You understand, don't you?"

"Fine," she says grudgingly. "But I expect you at the next one."

"Maaaaybe" he sing-songs and laughs at her pout. "Go on, have a good time, call me if you need an escort home."

"Such a gentleman. Are you sure you're gay?"

"100% gold star gay."

"Not even a little bit bi?"

"Kinsey 6."

"Ugh. It's so not fair." She throws her hands up in mock despair. "See you later. Just promise me you won't go to bed early like an old man."

"I make no such promises." He calls out as she slams the door.

Blaine revels in the relative quiet after she leaves. Blaine hasn't had roommates since grad school, and even his romantic relationships had faded away long before cohabitation was broached, so getting used to having somebody in his living spaces again has been challenging. He's super grateful that Tina had an extra room to let, even though it's a little drafty and he can hear the neighbors above him yelling every evening when they get home from work, the couple next door having loud sex every night at 11:15 (Blaine admires their punctuality even if he wishes he could cut out the soundtrack), and the delivery trucks at all times of the night. The noises kept him awake for the first week, until sheer exhaustion overcame him and he collapsed and slept for 10 hours straight. He's adjusted since then, the noises existing mostly in the background.

Tina is a good roommate at least. They get along well, have similar interests (although he wishes that she would stop admiring his butt all of the time), and similar ideas about the cleanliness of the apartment. It's just… Tina talks all the time, prattling to Blaine as they cook dinner together or clean up afterwards. Blaine has always thought of himself as a very social person, enjoying opportunities to visit friends or go out dancing or to a bar, but he's starting to realize how quieter his life has become over the years. Most evenings have been spent at home, music or the tv on in the background as he graded papers or wrote rearrangements for the kids to perform. Socialization happened on special occasions, not this constant evasion of his private space.

So he takes advantage of the relative quiet (the neighbors also seem to be out as there is no loud yells) and putters around the apartment, wiping the counters clean and putting away one of the last boxes, before changing into his pajamas and curling up on the couch with a gin and tonic in one hand and the script for The New Normal in his hands. It's just the script—pretty much all of the songs are still being edited and not expected until the end of the week. He had started to ask Brad if it was normal to start rehearsals with only drafts of the music and previews just over two months away, but Brad had silently turned back to his piano and Blaine recognized the dismissal. Kitty Wilde, one of the secondary actors, cackled wildly at his bewilderment. "Oh, honey," she says, patting his arm, "this is all par for the course for a Durphy production. You should have been there for Voice! We didn't have a script until the day of shooting every week."

He skimmed through the script earlier in the week, but now he sits down, pen in hand, making notes about character motivations and comedic overtones. As the music director, it's important that he has an idea as to what makes each character tick, so he can draw that out in the songs.

The script is good—the type of dark humor with forthwrite explorations of religion, underdog characters, found family, and overly earnest takes on social issues that Ryan Durphy is known for. Tina's character is a novice nun who receives a vision from God that she is to help bring "virgin births" into this world - it's a storyline that could be scandalous, but Ryan has played it sincerely. Kitty plays the fertility doctor

Blaine takes notes on all of the main characters but is drawn over and over again to Kurt's character, Brian. Even though he barely knows Kurt, he can hear Brian in Kurt's voice, see Kurt standing on the stage, bringing Brian to life.

It's funny. He had known who Kurt was, of course. His picture is framed in one of the glee club classrooms along with other alumni who have gone on to have successful careers. Blaine had often been captured by his striking jawline and warm smile (thankfully it was a more recent headshot than from his high school days). He would be the first to admit that he's listened to The Boy From Oz soundtrack more than once and he had had more than one erotic dream of peeling Kurt out of gold pants after his memorable Tony award performance two years ago—but he doubts that there's a gay man in the US who had been immune to Kurt's coy flirtation with the camera.

But meeting him, seeing him, with his clear eyes and endearing smile, and expertly styled hair and broad chest ... Blaine's at a loss of words as to the emotions that this had created. In real life, Kurt was more handsome than he had ever imagined and also more real.

He allows himself to drift in fantasy, remembering the way their voices had blended together in their impromptu duet, imagines Kurt sitting next to him near the piano long after everybody has left, his long fingers drawing patterns on his arm as Blaine plays, the music trailing off as Blaine drowns himself in Kurt's deep eyes.

He lets his hand wander down to the front of his pants, desire simmering with the daydream. In his mind, Kurt leans firmly against him, his fingers replacing Blaine's as they trace over his swelling bulge. Kurt presses his lips against Blaine's, coaxing his mouth open and Blaine is left wanting more. Wanting it all.

Wanting. A fragment of a song flickers across his thoughts. Blaine's eyes pop open. He glances down at the script to the lines that he had just underlined.

"All my life, I have suppressed my dreams because I was told that I couldn't have them. I couldn't have a career as an out gay man. I couldn't have a family." Brian says on the paper. "I've been forced into molds of their making. Well, no longer. I want it all and I'm going to get it."

Blaine hears the fragment again, this time with Kurt singing that line of script as the melody.

The thrum of desire ebbs a little as the song takes over his imagination. Blaine digs through his desk and finds his pad of manuscript paper and a pen. He sits down at his keyboard, pen in mouth as he plays the chords. There. That was the note in his head.

He hasn't written any music in years, not since grad school, but the notes and the words bubble up through him like he's possessed.

He sketches it out madly, following his instincts. He's just writing down the last chords for the chorus, when Tina comes in, her cheeks flushed from alcohol. She frowns. "Oh Blainey-bee, don't tell you that you spent all night working! What am I going to do with you?"

Blaine sweeps his music up and shoves it in his bag along with the script. "Hi! How was your night?" He distracts her as he turns off the keyboard. This is something he doesn't want to share with her, no matter how nice she's been.

It is Kurt's performance as an actor that has been his muse tonight, he tells himself firmly. This is just practice. Important practice for his future career. He'll continue to play around with the song, making it better because that's what musicians do. By then, after all of his edits, it won't be associated in his brain with Kurt, and thankfully, nobody will ever know about this moment of weakness.

He falls to sleep, Kurt's voice still in his head.