Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.
BLAINE
The next six weeks went by in a kind of stop motion blur. There were days he couldn't tell the end from the beginning; if he had stayed up too late or woken up far too early. Hours turned into days turned into weeks. But then there were some moments of which he could remember every detail, like the way her yellow sundress clung to her skin when they'd been caught in an unexpected downpour walking back from the movie theater. The way her fingers would curl under the collar of his shirt, the way she said his name in a different way every single time, and especially the way her eyelashes would flutter with exhaustion, brushing against his jaw. His heart would race and skip a beat, shaking his breath loose from his lungs; maybe it was just that suspended bliss that came with discovering someone new, and maybe it was slightly terrifying the way she made him feel, but at least it was his.
They resisted putting a label on what they were doing; it was unspoken between them, the line they knew they had crossed, but they weren't willing to turn back. At least not yet. If anyone thought they were close before, they were down right inseparable now. He spent more nights with Rachel than he did at his dorm at NYU and because of this, he still hadn't officially met his roommate, despite the fact school had been in session more than two weeks already. She had cleaned out a bottom drawer for a few of his clothes since he left them at her place so often. He had taken the key she'd hidden in the door frame and carried it around in his pocket with the rest.
For all intents and purposes, anyone would say they were dating. That is, if anyone knew. The advantage to having a secret relationship in a city as big as New York was that you rarely saw anyone who would recognize you. Their affair, as she called it, was relatively safe from discovery. Even more than that though, it didn't seem to Blaine that they did anything too out of the ordinary. Yes, in private, they were sleeping together, which was new for them, but in public, they were the same. They went to the same places, they laughed at the same jokes, they talked about anything and everything, just as they'd done before. Adding sex into the equation should have made everything complicated, but it just... didn't. He wondered if they were simply being naïve, but she would smile at him the same way she always did and he knew everything was as it should be.
They were friends first, lovers second, and somehow that seemed to make all the difference.
"Did you decide on a color yet?" he asked, coming up behind Rachel as she looked through paint swatches. She had a bundle of soft pinks in one hand, golds and yellows in the other and was frowning at all of them. Ever since she decided to liven up her apartment last week, they'd been coming to the paint store rifling through all the color options. She'd ultimately decided against blues and greens, anything on the cool side of the spectrum, even though she had read they had a calming effect on people with high-maintenance tendencies. Blaine had liked the reds, but she insisted that was because it was scientifically proven to make men think of sex, not because it was a good color-scheme.
"I think so?" she said, nibbling on her bottom lip. "I can't decide if this pink is too pale, or if this gold is too bright."
Blaine glanced at the palates she was studying and instantly pulled the pink out or her hands. "You don't want that one," he insisted, placing it back in the rack. "You're going to wake up and realize you painted your walls the color of expired Pepto-Bismol."
Rachel rolled her eyes, but didn't reach to take the swatch back. Instead she turned her attention back to the card still left in her hands and after another minute of thought, she pointed at the two-by-two square and triumphantly proclaimed, "this is the one". She hummed happily as they carried the four gallons back to her place, even keeping it up as they lugged the cans up ten flights of stairs that left them both slightly winded. She didn't stop until he pried open the first can.
"Do you think it looks like a highlighter?" she questioned, her face crinkled in consternation.
"I think it'll look different on the wall," Blaine answered, pouring it into tray. It was really bright, he thought, but the label called it 'maize' – whatever they hell that meant – and it was supposed to come out to a pale, muted, gold. "It'll be fine."
"But what if it dries and my room glows in the dark?" Rachel fretted.
"Then you'll save a lot of money on electricity," Blaine laughed, dipping his fingers into the wet liquid. "We could always test it out before we paint the whole room."
"That's a good idea," she said with a nod. "Maybe a spot behind the refrigerator or somewhere not very noticeable."
The idea struck him out of nowhere, but as soon as it grabbed hold of him, there was no letting it go. He could feel the mischievous grin stretch across his face as he dipped his hand in the paint again, letting it coat all the way up to his wrist. "I had a different idea, to be honest," he said, lunging towards her and catching her bare arm and suddenly, from her elbow to her shoulder, she was covered in the yellow paint. She shrieked in surprise and started wiping at her arm. The paint smeared onto her hands and as she stood there staring at him with her mouth agape, he started laughing.
"It's a good color for you," Blaine chuckled, pulling her waist towards him with his golden hand, splattering paint on her gray tank top. There was a slight lift to the corners of her mouth and a quirk to her eyebrows as he drew a line of yellow down the bridge of her nose, then across her cheeks and then a star on the side of her neck.
"Let's see how it looks on you," she retorted with a smirk and slapped the side of his head with her paint covered hand, grinding it into his hair. It dribbled down his ear as she wriggled away from his grasp, scooping up a puddle of paint into her hands and flung it at him like she were splashing water. His entire right side was spattered with highlighter yellow, clinging through his clothing, dripping down into his shoes and between his toes. She laughed heartily as she said "you look good as a blonde."
It was a good thing they had put the plastic down before opening the paint, because the majority of the gallon of paint ended up in puddles, or streaks after they ran slid clumsily through them, or on their own persons. It was how, after twenty minutes of chasing each other through the apartment, they crashed onto the floor, thoroughly soaked in the yellow paint. Blaine's hair was standing on end as it dried in clumps of flaky gold and if there was an inch of Rachel that wasn't covered in paint, he couldn't find it.
There was a strand of her stuck to her cheek and as he brushed it away, it drew a slight swirl around the corner of her eyes and it struck him how similar the color of paint she'd chosen matched the golden hues that lurked behind her deeply chocolate tones. It was the little things like this that got to him; little discoveries, little mysteries, little moments that made him want to kiss her. As his lips met hers, her knees wrapped around his waist and he felt as if she were pulling him into her very skin, or that he was falling in. His hands gripped her, fingers laced together, and he held her pinned to the ground as if she were his anchor.
She rolled her hips into his and he could have taken her then and there if not for the sudden knock at her door. It startled them both, groaning as they looked towards the offending sound. He silently willed whoever it was to go away, but a rhythm of three tune-less notes echoed through the room instead. "Don't answer it," he whined, burying his head in her chest as the rhythm started again. She nodded as if she were thinking the same thing, but what they heard next forced them apart like an electric current had surged through them.
It was Kurt's voice that was shouting "Rachel!" through the door excitedly. They jumped up and instinctively put at least six feet of distance between them. Rachel was attempting to smooth down her clothing, despite the awkward folds the drying paint had put in them and there was no way even she could manage to look socially acceptable in that state; and he was no better off. Never mind the fact that he was standing bare foot in a puddle of maize tinted goo, his nerves were shooting off sparks from the intrusion, leaving him feeling very frazzled and embarrassed, as if he had been doing something wrong.
Until this moment, however, he could mentally separate Kurt from Rachel. Their schedules were vastly different, so while they saw each other at school, Blaine rarely saw Kurt with Rachel outside of classes and with Blaine attending an entirely different school, he only saw Kurt when he made the effort to. Which admittedly, wasn't more than once a week, if even that. He almost felt guilty, which was infuriating in a way, that Kurt could still do that to him. They hadn't been together in almost a year, and even though they were just starting to get back on good terms, they were only barely friends. It shouldn't matter to him what Kurt thought about the things he did, or the people he did them with for that matter. But one of the reasons Rachel was so hesitant to make anything official was because of Kurt and despite everything they'd been though, Blaine still didn't feel the need to purposely hurt him.
Rachel looked over at him, as if questioning what to do. He gave her a tight nod and she crossed the room towards the door, desperately attempting to smooth down her hair. It irked him a little, like she was trying to erase him and it was truly the first time he felt like they were an actual secret. It was like he was something to be hidden away, and he knew it was illogical, that this was something he agreed to, it didn't make him feel any better about the flash of jealousy that surged through him or the dim anger that followed it. It wasn't her fault, he thought as she swung open the door, but rather it was his for letting himself fall into that position again.
"Kurt!" she announced in a light, airy voice.
"Oh God, finally!" Kurt's words fell out in an excited jumble, thrusting a sheet of paper in Rachel's face. "I was leaving campus and they were posting these on all the bulletin boards. They're putting onCabaret for the winter fundraiser, Rachel. Cabaret! I already added your name to the audition sheet and why are you covered in lemon meringue pie?"
"Lemon pie?" Rachel choked and the look of sheer horror on her face made all of Blaine's earlier feelings evaporate into a fresh round of laughter. She whirled around and glared at him, which only caused him to laugh so hard that he had to sit down on the floor, clutching his stomach.
"It's supposed to be maize," Blaine gasped between breaths, which promptly earned him a swift kick in the shin from Rachel.
"You're covered in it too!" Kurt observed, looking quickly around the room before adding, "in fact, there's not much in this apartment that's not covered in it."
"We're painting," Rachel pouted.
"With that color?" Kurt laughed as well. "Oh honey, what were you thinking?"
"I hate you both," Rachel proclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air and marching towards the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. Blaine and Kurt both continued to chuckle, but it was quickly died down as they both realized that, by Rachel's storming out, they had been left alone in the room. The last time Blaine had truly been alone with Kurt was the fight they'd had at his house last spring. Even since he'd moved to New York, every time they saw each other, it was with a group of people or in a very public place. In situations like that, he could be friendly and cordial, but as distant as he wanted to be. Like this, there was no way to circumvent the awkwardness. He dragged a fresh can of paint to him and busied himself with trying to pop the top open, determined to at least appear at ease.
"How are you Blaine?" Kurt asked, his voice slightly strained. Blaine wanted to look up at him, to see if he could decipher Kurt's emotions as easily as he used to; Kurt had told him once he was the only one besides his father who ever learned to really look at him, but he could only bring himself to stare at Kurt's shoes.
"I'm okay," he whispered, knowing it was a stock answer but there wasn't much else he could say. "School is getting tough."
"Were you able to get that music elective you wanted?"
Blaine couldn't help but smile a bit. "Yeah, I did," he said as the paint lid finally gave way. "Someone dropped out in the first week and I was next on the list. It's more challenging than I thought it would be."
"Already? It's only the third week of classes," Kurt said, "and you've helped write songs for New Directions to sing at Nationals for the last two years. I thought song-writing would be a breeze for you."
"I know," Blaine agreed. "I thought I knew what I was getting into with this, but according to my professor, this happens all the time. Kids come in with lyrics but have no idea how to construct a song. It's really informative, just completely different than I thought it would be."
"Well I'm sure you'll do wonderfully with it regardless," Kurt insisted, and the confidence in his voice made Blaine finally look up at him. He allowed himself to smile, ignoring the way Kurt's ever-blue eyes lit up just slightly, the shy curl in his lips, the light blush that crept across his neck. He knew what these meant; it was far from the first time Kurt had looked at him like this. Hell, there was a time when Blaine lived for this moment. But this wasn't that time. They weren't those people, no matter how much Kurt seemed to want to be again. But none of that meant Blaine didn't have a slight twinge of phantom pain over it.
"So what's this about Cabaret?" Rachel interrupted, drying her freshly wet hair with a towel as she exited the bathroom. He hadn't even heard the shower run, but she couldn't have done more than simply rinse off as there were still flakes of paint dotting her skin like golden dust. It gave off an illusion of radiance and as she chattered animatedly with Kurt, it overtook her entire being. She literally lit up with exhilaration and it was absolutely intoxicating to watch. It was just an intrinsic part of her, this light, and it carried over into everything she did and, he wondered, to the people she cared about. Because standing next to her, Kurt held that light too. Perhaps he always had, and Blaine had just forgotten, but for a moment, Kurt wasn't the boy would had ripped his heart to shreds. He was the boy who hesitated to take his hand on the staircase at Dalton. He was the first person to tell him he was proud of him.
And it was this boy he saw standing next to Rachel. His Rachel, the one he knew on every level, who never let him down. He could look at her and see every bit of her like it was its own miracle, but he could see her as a whole. He didn't have to divide her in his mind like did Kurt because no matter what, Rachel always had Blaine's back and he had come to realize how very important that was to him. Support for him, confidence in him when he didn't have it for himself, understanding even when he did the wrongs things; Rachel held these things for him. He honestly couldn't say he could profess the same about Kurt, and Blaine was a little disgusted with himself for comparing them, but as much as they differed, they were also the same. The parallels made his head hurt.
Blaine had nearly finished lining all the doors and windows with tape when Kurt and Rachel's finally quieted down. He could feel their eyes on his back as he worked and he felt responsible for the sudden silence that settled over the disjointed group. If he weren't here, he was sure Kurt would end up staying the night with Rachel as they planned audition outfits, decided what she should sing, practice her monologues. They could be friends without wondering how he felt about it – he knew them both well enough to know without a doubt this was what they were thinking – and he hated it.
"I guess I better get going," Kurt said with a sigh, gathering up his satchel and slinging it around his shoulders. "You guys have a lot to do if you're going to paint this entire apartment tonight."
"You don't have to leave," Rachel said and even to Blaine's ears, she wasn't convincing. She sounded too sad, too hesitant, as if she really meant to say I don't want to ask you to leave, but for Blaine's benefit, I will. It wasn't what he wanted, not at all. He would never force Rachel to give up her friendship with Kurt, even if she did it unintentionally; he was too important to her and Rachel was important to Kurt.
"Hey Kurt," Blaine called as the boy started turning the doorknob. "Why don't you grab a brush and join us?"
The look of shock on Kurt's face was almost as rewarding as the absolutely blazing smile Blaine received from Rachel. Elation dances across her features, along with a hidden sigh of relief as she mouthed a small "thank you" towards him before turning back to Kurt standing frozen in the door frame.
"Yes, please!" she chirped, clapping her hands together. "We need all the help we can get."
"Are you sure?" Kurt asked, looking past Rachel towards Blaine, leaving all his real questions unvoiced. Do you want me here? Are we actually friends again? Does this mean what I want it to mean?
"Stay," Blaine nodded.
"Fine," Kurt relented with a smile. "But this is the new Alexander McQueen so the paint is going on the walls children, and not on each other."
He laughed along with Rachel and they quickly settled into a well-oiled routine. Rachel carefully painted around the edges of the trim with a wide brush while Blaine used the rollers on the wall and Kurt touching up the spot he couldn't quite reach towards the ceiling. Kurt and Rachel sang through the entire song book of Wicked, twice, and Blaine jumped in on the parts he knew. It was free-spirited and young and Blaine missed this. Moments like this were the ones he often remembered from their life in Lima, when they would lock themselves away from the rest of the world because the three of them, that's all they needed. They managed to finish about two-thirds of her apartment before Rachel disappeared to talk to her dad for their weekly phone call. Kurt continued humming as he painted and Blaine found himself harmonizing with ease.
"I'm glad you decided to do this," Blaine admitted as they moved the television so they could paint the wall behind it. "It feels good to hang out like this again. The three of us."
"To be honest," Kurt said, "I wouldn't have stayed unless you asked."
"You don't have to avoid me; you know that right?" Blaine sighed.
"Well it feels like that's what you're doing with me," Kurt countered. "To put it in terms Blaine Anderson will understand, you've been very hot n' cold with me since you moved to New York. Of course, I don't blame you. It's just confusing when one minute you're hugging me at the airport and then it's three weeks before we even glance at each other. You tell me you want to try being friends again, but we don't do anything friends do."
"Well that's because, when we do, you go around telling everyone it was a date," Blaine laughed sharply.
"That was one time, and I only said that to Rachel," Kurt replied.
"You're right, I'm sorry," Blaine said and he could have kicked himself for how automatic and second-nature it was but he just shook it off as best he could. "It's just different now. We go to different schools again and we're busy."
"But you find time to paint Rachel's apartment," Kurt pointed out, dropping his paint roller into the tray and crossing his arms across his chest.
"Rachel is a friend," Blaine answered as evenly as he could, but he could feel the anger building beneath his chest.
"And as we've established, I am not," Kurt cried.
"What do you want me to say Kurt?" he snapped and it took all his strength to keep from flat out yelling. "Maybe we're not friends. Maybe we can't be friends. All I know is I'm trying and you're making this a hell of a lot harder than it needs to be. God, just when I start to think I've been missing you, you have to prove me wrong."
Kurt's eyes widened once again in surprise. "What?" he whispered, arms falling to his side as he took a step closer to Blaine.
"Nothing," Blaine groaned and concentrated more than it was necessary on the wall in front of him. "It doesn't matter."
"You said you missed me," Kurt repeated. "That matters to me."
"I didn't mean it the way you want me to," Blaine muttered.
"Then explain it to me," Kurt pleased and his eyes were soft and sincere, vulnerable. How many times had this face caused Blaine to spill his deepest secrets? "Please, Blaine."
Blaine tried to run his fingers through his hair, forgetting that it had practically dried into a cement block from all the paint still in there. It was his oldest nervous habit; any time he got agitated, his hands started working on their own accord. It was one of the reasons he had taken up boxing as it gave his anxious hands an outlet. "I just meant that sometimes I miss you. Not dating you, just you. Because wewere friends once, and now I just don't know. Rachel and I managed to stay friends even after..." The thought came to a halting stop as he realized his rambling had taken him further than he expected. This was precisely what he and Rachel agreed to not talk about with out people and especially not with Kurt.
"After you and Rachel what?" Kurt queried but was only met with stony silence in return.
"It doesn't matter," Blaine muttered once again.
"You keep saying that!" Kurt yelled. "But clearly it does matter and whatever it is, you're using it to torture me."
"Not everything is about you!" Blaine screamed back, his fists balling up next to his side. He felt the tremors travel up his back and it was suddenly as if he'd never left Lima and he was still at his old house, arguing with Kurt while blinking back tears. He would not revert back to that boy, he would not give into this and it was Rachel who became his saving grace as she picked that exact moment to walk through her front door.
"I think I'm going to order dinner," she proclaimed, pretending not to notice the stand off between the two boys. "Kurt, would you mind cleaning up while I show Blaine the menu to that Thai place we like? I know already know what you want."
Rachel placed her hand securely around his bicep and pulled him away towards the kitchen while Kurt shuffled off towards the bathroom. As soon as the door closed, her hand moved from his arm to his chest and her free hand wrapped itself around his still clenched fist. Her lips were at his neck, kissing him quickly and whispering in his ear, "it's okay, Blaine."
"It's not okay," he growled darkly even though he felt slightly more relaxed by her touch.
"It will be," she amended. "Just calm down, okay? I'm here now."
"Can we just tell him?" Blaine groaned, burying his head in her hair.
"I really don't think this is the time Blaine," Rachel whispered. "If we tell him now, he won't take it seriously. He'll feel like you're doing it to hurt him. He doesn't even know you're not gay."
"Then I'll tell him that too!" Blaine insisted. "I'll tell him everything if it means he'll shut his damn mouth for more than two minutes."
"Blaine, you're angry," she said, trying to reason with him. "This isn't how you want to have this discussion with him, you know it isn't."
"You're just trying to protect him," Blaine hissed, his anger rising again as he stepped away from her and gripped the counter edges.
"I'm trying to protect you!" Rachel argued. "And yes, him too and also myself. God, Blaine we've talked about this, about how we wanted to be sure about it and make sure he would understand it."
"See, now I'm confused," Blaine bit back. "Are we keeping this a secret because of us, or because of Kurt? Because I agreed to keeping this casual until we figured out if this would change anything between us – which, by the way, I don't think it has because the past few weeks have been pretty damn good up until right now."
"Please don't take this out on me," she whispered in such a small voice it made his heart ache. It had been so long since her heard her sound that way; it was reserved for her lowest moments – the ones where she felt helpless, defenseless, worthless – and he literally hated himself for bringing that back into her life, for putting her back into that dreaded place. He wasn't supposed to do that to her, he was supposed to be the one who kept her from feeling that, who reminded her she was perfect.
He pulled her close, cradling her head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry," he whispered softly, his anger ebbing away as she melted into his embrace. "I know you're right, okay? I just... I need to walk this off. I'll come back, I promise, I just need to walk this off."
"I'll call our order ahead if you'll go pick it up," she suggested as he kissed the crown of her head, then leaned over her to place a small kiss on her cheek which he promptly covered with his hand; they would use it later.
He was out the door before Kurt even came out of the bathroom., trying not to slam the door behind him but he did anyway. The temperature had dropped and he had the vague inkling of going back for the jacket his kept in Rachel's closet, but there was no way he was going all the way back up there just yet. He just needed a little distance, a little space, because being around Kurt was claustrophobic and it clouded his thoughts like the darkening sky. Usually it was Rachel who he turned to, who made it better – and to be fair, she had – but Kurt was there with her and it was like he'd taken over Blaine's only place of refuge. So he was stuck with the streets of New York.
At some point he had started running because when he finally made it to the restaurant, his breaths were coming in noiseless pants. There was a stitch in his side, tugging and pulling with every gasp but the keen pain that came with it served its purpose. He was calm, settled. Clear, even. He knew that Rachel had been right to put her foot down. He knew he was wrong to take his frustration out on her. He knew it was his fault he left Kurt get to him, no matter if that was his intention or not. He knew he wasn't ready to confide in Kurt the things he confided in Rachel, not if they couldn't have a simple conversation without screaming at each other. There was no way Kurt would accept him and Rachel, not when they were on such shaky ground. And even more than that, he knew Kurt would take it out on Rachel instead of him. This would cost her one of her deepest friendships and the conclusion he'd had early in the day came back to him: he would never want that for her.
He made an extra stop on his walk back from the Thai place and started his way back to Rachel's, each step gaining strength and confidence to the point that he felt like himself again by the time he pushed her door open. He wasn't even annoyed when he realized Kurt was still there; apparently they had finished all the painting while he was gone. Rachel bounced off the couch immediately, grabbing one of the plastic bags from his hands and placed it on the counter in her new brightly colored kitchen.
"You were gone a long time," she said with a hint of worry, to which he smiled and produced a brown paper bag he'd hidden in one of the bags.
"I passed that bakery you like on the way," he explained as he pulled a simple white box out of the bag. "They had these in the window."
She squealed in delight and grabbed the carton from him, nearly ripping open the top as she opened them. "Are these the ones they make with the applesauce?" she giggled.
"Of course!" he laughed, throwing his hand over his heart as if she'd wounded him. "Blueberry applesauce muffins, completely vegan."
She kissed him on the cheek, a completely normal act to Kurt who was watching the exchange, but to him, it meant much more. It meant she wasn't angry with him, that she'd forgiven him before he even asked, that she was on his side. It was how he was able to spend the rest of the evening in a relative state of contentment as she nestled between him and Kurt on the couch, singing along with Funny Girl under his breath so he could still hear her.
He reached for her hand, fingers brushing against her skin softly to garner her attention before curling around her overturned palm. She gazed at him out of the corner of her eye; it was soft and kind. He mouthed a quick, "I'm sorry" to her and she merely squeezed his hand and smiled at him. He moved his hand away, but she caught it in hers and didn't let go. It was almost too risky, he knew, for if Kurt noticed, he might ask questions. Even though they'd held hands before, it wasn't often like this, fingers intertwined and wrists locked together.
"You know," Kurt mused out loud after the credits on the movie rolled, "this color really isn't so bad. It looks different on the wall."
"I told you," Blaine yawned, hand still in Rachel's.
"I still think you could so with an accent color," Kurt nodded, then motioned to her wall with a sweeping motion, drawing a soft wave in the air. "Like a sunset orange, maybe. Just to bring a few details in."
"I think that would be beautiful," Rachel agreed, throwing her free arm around Kurt's shoulders, "but right now, I feel like this is perfect."
Blaine couldn't help but feel like she was talking about them; all of them together. Him, her, and Kurt. This was what she saw when she pictured her perfect life. He had a vision of them, so very similar to this, except he and Kurt weren't at odds. They were okay, they were friends even. They would have to be and he would do it for her. Because that's what she wanted, what she needed, and if he were honest, it was what he needed too.
-:-
"This is a disaster!" Rachel shrieked, flinging herself on her bed where Blaine was currently stretched out on his back, holding the political science text over his head as he read. He'd been there for almost three hours waiting for her to get back from her audition at the school, which she insisted he wasn't allowed to come see for himself. He would have gone anyway and sat quietly in the back except his first big exam of the year was happening the very next day. He thought he'd been used to a tough curriculum thanks to his years at Dalton but his time at McKinely seemed to have diluted his study skills. Which was how he ended up on her bed, surrounded by notebooks and flash cards as he waited for her to come home.
"What is?" Blaine snapped the book closed and rolled over on his side. Rachel had buried her head in a pillow, her dramatic moans nothing more than a muffle garble of sounds. He tried to nudge her into sitting up, but she was far more stubborn than he so he resigned himself to rubbing circles through her thin blouse. "Come on, Rach, what's the disaster?"
With a huff she turned over and glared at the ceiling. "Rosenbaum is spearheading the musical and is in charge of auditions," she groaned.
It took him a moment to place the name, but when he did, Blaine couldn't blame Rachel for her panicked state. "He's your drama teacher from last year right? The one would called you less than mediocre."
"Yes, and the same one who told me he would have never cast me in one of his productions," Rachel affirmed. "He was a casting director for two decades Blaine, and if he has any say in the casting decisions for Cabaret, I might as well have tried out for a chair. Except even then he would say I wasn't wooden enough and demand an emergency recast in favor of a block of firewood."
It really wouldn't earn him any favor to laugh and thankfully she was too busy screaming into the pillow again to notice his grin. "But you did try out for Sally right?" he asked.
"Of course I did," she said impatiently. "I'm not going to let one sad little man dictate the rest of my stage career at NYADA. But I'm not going to get the part. I know I'm not. I'll be lucky to get a spot in the ensemble now, if I get anything at all."
"I'm sure you did amazing," Blaine said reassuringly. "There's no one better than you, even at that school."
"You're very sweet," Rachel sighed with a small smile, kissing him briefly on the lips, "but you're also wrong. NYADA is ultra-exclusive as you very well know and there are many upperclassmen who have been studying and training longer than I have. Besides, it's not just the students I have to compete against, it's the public as well."
"What do you mean?"
"Apparently Kurt was wildly misinformed on the circumstances of this play," Rachel said with a shrug as she sat up to lean against the headboard. "We are hosting the production as part of our fundraiser, but it's a joint venture with a few of the local theater companies in the area. The administrators or whoever is in charge of these things wanted to show how the practical application of training in the arts has the potential to lead to practical and realistic jobs in the future. Not that we're not reminded every day that this is an impractical career, but for the sake of school funding, they want to pretend like they're training the newest and brightest stars."
"Which is true, in your case," Blaine interjected.
"Yes, well, we can't deny that," Rachel blushed as she rolled her eyes, though he knew full well she believed her words as much as his. "Regardless, the cast is going to be a mixture of students and actors within the companies. So not only am I competing against my fellow classmates, I have to be the better choice over professional actors as well."
"That hardly seems fair," he stated, picking up a random pile of flashcards and started flipping through them, laying against her legs. "There's clearly a difference in advantage."
"I think they've promised a certain amount of roles to the students, and a certain amount to the rest," she explained. "I mean, they can't do a fundraiser for the school without involving the school in some integral way."
"When does the callback list go up?" he queried, frowning at the card in front of him before throwing it onto the floor and moving on to the next one.
"That's wrong," Rachel pointed at the answer he'd scrawled on the back of his notes. She pulled the offending card from his hand and corrected it before handing it back to him; he had to admit, it made much more sense than his original response. "I don't think there will be callbacks. Rosenbaum is nothing if not opinionated. If I know him, he'd already decided on the cast as soon as auditions wrapped up. And if I know him, my name isn't anywhere on it."
"I've listened to you practice for the last two weeks," Blaine chuckled. "You're going to be in this show; I'd put good money on it."
"Except you're broke," Rachel teased, dodging the flimsy strip of cardstock he flung at her in retaliation.
"My point," he stressed as he moved to the edge of the bed to retrieve a new notebook, "is that there's no way you're not going to be in this show and if I had any money at all, I would put it all on Rachel Berry cast in the role of Sally Bowles."
He hadn't even realized she had moved until she was pressed against his back, arms slung fiercely around his chest as she nuzzled into his neck, peppering miniscule kisses along the edge of his jaw. "Thank you," she whispered and he couldn't tell if it was the feel of her lips pressed against his skin or the pure elation and gratitude in her voice that made him feel like he was melting, just that she always seemed to have the most surprising effect on him.
"I'm nervous now," Rachel admitted, resting her chin in the crook of his shoulder.
"Don't be," he said with a soft kiss to her temple. "I'll go with you when they post the results."
"You'll probably have classes," she observed, worrying her bottom lip, wincing when she bit down too hard.
"I'll skip them," he insisted before leaning in with a gentle kiss as he covered her injured lip with his own.
-:-
He got Rachel's text a few days later only minutes after his last class had ended and promptly ran across campus, only stopping by his dorm room to throw his backpack through the door, startling his roommate. It wasn't until he was on the bus that he realized in his focus on getting there he hadn't responded to her and quickly tapped "wait for me" on the keypad. Barely fifteen seconds back before her reply came: "There's no way I could do this without you".
Blaine sat back in his seat with a dumb smile on his face as he read the message. Even though she still insisted she wasn't getting a part, insisted that Rosenbaum hated her too much, insisted that she had been off-pitch anyway, it didn't stop her from dreaming. She started memorizing lines while he studied. She hummed the melodies and made up choreography to practice and with every day that passed, her optimism grew. It was one of the things he liked most about her; the ability to press forward when things started to get tough. Obstacles were hers to break through, not to run from. It was inspiring to him, in a way, because there were some days he still felt like he was running.
He had come to New York for several reasons, but the biggest one was leaving his old life behind. There were a lot of regrets in his life, things he wasn't sure he would ever really be at peace with. Caving into the pressure and leaving his school in favor of Dalton had been a good choice, a safe choice, but even now he wasn't convinced it was the right choice. And as tenuous his relationship had been with his father before, it had never been the same after Blaine asked to transfer; it was if his father hated his cowardice as much as he hated him being gay. But in New York, he didn't have to run or hide and he could be a stronger, prouder person. He could be someone with conviction, with purpose and he felt that way when he was with Rachel.
He could forgive himself when he was with her, and because of that, he could forgive so many other things. Among them, he was slowly recognizing, was Kurt. Maybe it was his silent resolution to rebuild their friendship for Rachel's sake, but he had started making more of an effort towards the older boy. They started meeting for coffee semi-regularly and Blaine began answering his texts and he was starting to remember that before they had been a couple, Blaine had really liked Kurt as a friend. He liked his sense of humor and his sharp wit and it was forever endearing how that he could manage to be completely oblivious at the same time. He didn't always show it and it was easy for Blaine to forget, but Kurt had a kind heart when it came to the people he cared about.
He could see that especially when he was with Rachel. Being at NYADA had allowed Kurt to see Rachel as an ally more than a competitor and in a school as elitist as theirs, that extra pair of shoulders to lean on was something they both needed. Kurt supported Rachel as much as she supported him and even though Blaine had nothing to do with their friendship, he felt proud when he saw them together. They were the friends they always wanted to be in high school.
His hands were clammy as he got off the bus. Even though he'd spent the last few days convincing her she was the obvious choice, he was nervous for her. If she didn't get a part in the play, she would take it in stride, but he knew it would gnaw at her for weeks. She'd be just a little bit sadder, a little bit discouraged and he didn't want that for her. Which was why, when he spotted both her and Kurt across the courtyard, he plastered on his best smile and made his way towards the steps they had claimed for themselves.
"Are you sure the list is going up today?" Rachel groaned, her head on Kurt's shoulder as he patted her gently on the back.
"I'm absolutely sure I saw it printing when I walked past his office," Kurt said.
"You mean when you spied on him," Rachel accused.
"I don't spy," Kurt drawled. "I'm simply very observant when I lurk."
"You spy," Blaine laughed, taking his seat next to Rachel and shooting a friendly smile in Kurt's direction.
Rachel disentangled herself from Kurt and latched immediately onto Blaine, arms around his waist. "You're not nervous, are you?" Blaine laughed, rubbing her arm gently as she burrowed into his chest even more. "I told you, you've got this in the bag."
"Don't even lie to me Blaine Anderson," Rachel moaned. "It's your fault I'm like this in the first place. If you had just let me wallow in inferiority and convince myself that I didn't have a shot in the dark of being in this play, I wouldn't be the mess that I am right now and it is all your fault."
"Surely that would have been kinder to all of us," Kurt quipped and Rachel responded with light smack to his arm. His flinch was grossly over-exaggerated but it made her laugh and she sat up straight between the two boys. Her hand reached for his and it was the most natural thing to let her fingers fall between his and hold them tight.
Kurt made a sudden movement, almost as if he were frightened and his fingers sank into Rachel's arm in such a vice Blaine was sure he would leave bruises. "There he is Rachel," Kurt whispered, pointing to a lithe man who was quite literally strutting down the outdoor corridor and in his hands was a handful of papers.
"Oh God, I can't look," Rachel cried, her head once again nuzzled into Blaine's chest as the man he assumed was Rosenbaum tacked up several sheets of yellow papers. He looked over at the tiny brunette in Blaine's arms and there was a slight quirk in his lips that Blaine wasn't sure he liked. He wasn't sure what it meant – if it was intended to be mocking or genuine – but he was suddenly just as nervous as she was, practically shaking. His grip tightened on her hand.
"I'll look," Kurt gulped, standing up and smoothing down the front of his jacket.
"No wait!" Rachel yelled, grabbing the sleeve of Kurt's jacket and yanking him backwards. "You can't just march up to the board and look at it. I'll know what it says before you even make it back here to tell me. You'll either get excited or sad and I just can't deal with seeing all that before you tell me."
"Well what do you propose we do then Rachel?" Kurt asked.
"Let's just all go over there," Blaine suggested, tugging Rachel to her feet as he spoke. "We'll all look at it together, like we promised."
"Yes, exactly like we promised," Kurt agreed, pulling Rachel into a tight side-hug as he and Blaine led her towards the ominous bulletin board. Rachel hadn't once let go of his hand and he was starting to lose feeling on the left side of his palm, but he was sure he was gripping her hand just as tightly, if not more. She caught his eye and her smile wavered, belying the pure panic behind her facade and he wanted nothing more than to convince her everything would turn out for the best. All he could do was look at the single sheet of paper flapping in the slight breeze. He searched for her name, starting from the bottom and the further he made his way up the list, the better he felt and finally, finally he saw it in the right hand column, RACHEL BERRY and just to the left of her capitalized name in bold, it said "Sally Bowles".
"Oh my God," he heard Kurt breath next to him and then with an excited squeal, he turned to Rachel was was simply staring at her name printed on the paper, wide-eyed and in shock. "Rachel! You did it!"
"Rach!" Blaine laughed, sweeping her up into his arms. He didn't even care if anyone thought it was strange or out of the ordinary. Her manic laughter filled the air as it seemed to sink in. She had gotten the part. She was going to star in her school's musical as a first-semester sophomore and he couldn't have been more proud of her in that moment if he tried. He set her down on her feet but she merely clung to him, rocking them back and forth in a circle as a stream of excited babble rushed from her lips and he couldn't resist the temptation. He swept her forward and kissed her. It was only on the cheek, really more towards the corner of her mouth, but sent a charge through him nonetheless. And that look on her face, that stunned breathless look that he still wasn't used to no matter how many times he'd seen it in bed, spread over her features and he felt the world fall away around him.
"This can't be right," Kurt muttered, not paying the two of them any attention but it certainly ripped Rachel's away from Blaine. Kurt was frowning at the page and grumbling to himself as he started frantically flipping through the other pages of minor cast and crew.
"What is it?" Rachel choked, pushing him out of the way. "Was I double cast? Is it a mistake? Did-?" Her words froze as her jaw dropped and she came to a screeching halt. Her finger lingered on the page, poised over the column labeled "choreography" and just to to right, Blaine read another familiar and completely unexpected name:
JESSE ST. JAMES.
AN: I usually send everyone individual responses, and I honestly have no idea why I didn't this time, but this is a big collective THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed, added me to any of the favorites lists, or put me on alerts. Seriously, it means everything to me. I love you all.