Summer 2017

"Welcome to LA!" Puck announced loudly as he handed them all piña coladas. "Always sunny, always fine."

"So, is this actually your house this time?" Tina asked, well aware of the incident he'd had with his half-brother during high school.

"Ha ha," Puck said sarcastically. "Yes, this is my house! Screen-writing is definitely better at raking in the dough than cleaning pools."

"There are condoms in the dining room," Santana announced, holding up the box. "This is definitely his house." Everyone died laughing at that one.

"Glad we did this?" Kurt asked Rachel, who was overdressed for Los Angeles weather and definitely regretting it judging by the sweat pouring from her forehead.

"Definitely," she said with a grin, jumping in the pool in all her clothes. She had really loosened up. At least, she would be loose until she remembered she was wearing a white t-shirt.

"Classy, Berry," Santana commented before doing the exact same thing. Of course, Santana didn't care and Rachel did, but that was beside the point.

"I definitely missed you guys," Mercedes said, sipping her piña colada and looking like she belonged in one of Puck's lawn chairs. How much time had they been spending together lately? "Everyone here is too big for their britches. And they use words like 'britches.'" Mercedes rolled her eyes. "Nice to have some people here ready to cut loose."

"Nice to get the damn New Yahk people out here too," Mike said in a terrible accent. "They're too cooped up in that city of theirs."

"Because your smoggy one is so much better," Rachel retaliated, hoping out of the pool to reveal that she was wearing a swimsuit under her clothes. That made more sense. The New York versus Los Angeles, which city was better? argument had been going on for years and would probably never end. "Noah, where's the karaoke machine."

Everyone groaned before Puck admitted, "Don't have one," and Rachel proceeded to fake faint on the ground. "Much better," Puck said, looking down at Rachel's prone form.

"How can you live," Rachel began, getting up and earning an even bigger chorus of groans, "in one of the most beautiful, if modest, houses I've ever seen, and not own a karaoke machine?"

"Rachel, calm down," Kurt said, used to controlling her. "This is mostly a vacation for your voice, remember?" he used her previous words against her. "So stop screeching, and don't even think about singing." Rachel sighed, but submitted.

"Fine," she said shortly, taking off her shirt and pants and getting back in the pool in proper attire.

"You're no fun, Berry," Santana said, and she was just wearing a bra under her white t-shirt. Kurt rolled his eyes. Classy as usual.

"A Girl Scout is always prepared."

"You were never a Girl Scout."

"Stop the violence!" Brittany said, and Santana immediately stopped, earning herself several whip sounds from his oh-so-mature friends. After Kurt had contributed, he picked up his buzzing phone.

"Hey!" came a cheerful voice. "I hope you're not busy."

"Well, actually," Kurt said, walking into Puck's house and noticing that there were condoms in the kitchen too, "I'm in Los Angeles with some friends, on vacation." Did Puck have condoms in every room? Knowing him, probably.

"Oh." Blaine sounded disappointed. "That's a shame, I was hoping we could spend some time together." Of course this would happen to him. Of course.

"Don't you have a show in a bit?" Kurt asked, looking at the clock. "Or right now." It was 3:29 on a Saturday. Why wasn't Blaine mid-Avenue Q?

"My show swung back down, so they gave us a week to get re-adjusted," Blaine said, and now he sounded downright miserable. "I had rehearsal this morning, but I don't have a show until next Tuesday."

"That's when I come home," Kurt said, tempted to swear.

"I guess this just isn't meant to work out, is it?" Blaine asked, and now he sounded like Rachel.

"Don't say that. You're just in a bad place," Kurt argued, sitting down at Puck's kitchen table and absentmindedly playing with the box of condoms he had found.

"I know. I guess you and Rachel were more than accurate in your criticisms of my cast mates. We're still not really Broadway worthy." Blaine sighed. "We'll work at it. Maybe we'll swing back up."

"You do realize now that you've debuted, you could probably find Broadway parts with no problem. You got good reviews," Kurt said, then swore when he realized what he had revealed.

"Been checking up on me?" Blaine asked, and Kurt blushed pink.

"Maybe," Kurt admitted, and Blaine chuckled. "Maybe I was just checking up on my investment. If all the critics had hated you, I would have lost major credit for having recommended you." It was weak, and he knew it.

"Right," Blaine said, obviously not believing him. "Don't worry about it, I think I spent more time than is healthy thinking about all I found while I was reading my own reviews."

"Yeah, reading your own reviews is never a good idea," Kurt said sympathetically. "There's always going to be someone that hates you for no good reason, don't dwell on it."

"Thank you for the wise, sage advice, oh Broadway alum," Blaine replied, making Kurt giggle. "I'm trying not to think about her."

"Her? Really?" Kurt asked.

"Why is that a surprise?"

"'Cause in Broadway chat rooms women end up talking more about how hot an actor is than how well they did. I kind of automatically assumed that all women who had seen you were completely enamored."

"Is that a hint, Mr. Hummel?" Blaine asked flirtily.

"Maybe," Kurt replied coyly.

"Hey, Hummel!" Puck yelled, followed by a few whip sounds. "Stop flirting with your man and come talk to the rest of us. This is supposed to be a vacation, that includes from dick."

"Puck!" Kurt shrieked, but Blaine was dying laughing.

"Dear God, are all your friends as crazy as Rachel?" Blaine asked, still laughing.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't think they would bother me. I should go though, before they say something truly traumatizing and you never want to speak to me again."

"That could never happen," Blaine promised, flirting again, "trust me, if people judged others on their friends, I would be shit out of luck, excuse my language. But you probably should go. We'll talk again soon?"

"Definitely. Bye Blaine," Kurt said, a goodbye that was almost entirely routine at this point.

"Bye, Kurt," Blaine replied. "And tell your friends I definitely wouldn't mind being your man." Blaine hung up before Kurt could say anything else, which was probably good. He would have made a complete fool out of himself; he had nothing to say to that.

"Puckerman!" he yelled, storming out of Puck's house and tossing the box of condoms he had found at him. "I cannot believe you said that!"

"All right, Hummel, I'm sorry I freaked out your boy toy," Puck finally gave as good an apology as Kurt was ever going to get, and the countertenor gave up. "Now, stop being a secluded stick ass and get in the pool. We're playing chicken."

"Not only is that game completely childish, but I'm still not sure I want to be associated with you."

"Bawk, bawk, bawk," Puck mocked, clucking like an idiot (he didn't make a very good chicken) and trying and failing to strut around the pool deck. "Chicken," he added, as if his attempts weren't obvious enough.

"Isn't the idea of chicken not to be playing with the chicken?" Kurt argued, and Puck was stumped, momentarily.

"Hummel, why must you suck so bad?" Santana asked from the pool, still just wearing her underwear and not caring that it was sopping. "Seriously, you came out here to have fun, so get the stick out of your ass and get in the pool."

Brittany leaned over to whisper something to Santana which made her laugh, and while Kurt hadn't heard enough of it to comment, he was pretty sure the words 'Blaine's dick' had been in there somewhere. Kurt huffed.

"Why must you idiots pick on me constantly?" Kurt asked as Santana almost drowned she was laughing so hard.

"Because you fall for the dumbest guys and will chase them to the ends of the earth," Puck answered, "like Finno over here."

"Noah," Kurt said, purposefully trying to annoy the former jock, "that was a long time ago, and I think we've all changed a little bit since high school. At least, I have." Kurt sniffed mockingly in Puck's direction, a skill he had picked up from watching Rachel do a background part in a revival of My Fair Lady a few years ago.

"Kurty," Brittany complained, having matured and wised up a little since high school (but not by much. Poor girl had always been in her own little world), "why won't you come in the water and play with me?" Mature as always, the other guys wolf-whistled at that.

"Hey, assholes! She's my wife!" Santana snapped, cowering the wolf-whistlers. "Come on, Hummel, just get your tight ass in the water."

"What happened to no comments?" Kurt asked, placing his hands on his hips and refusing to give in to Santana's demands.

"You started pissing me off," Santana practically growled.

"Stop the violence!" Kurt was pretty sure Brittany knew at this point that she could manipulate anyone into behaving with these simple words. They had never failed to work on any of them.

"And I have matured, Hummel. I'm a screenwriter, and I own a badass house. Unlike you New York people and your apartments." Kurt rolled his eyes. That was an argument Puck was never going to win.

"Do you seriously think mocking my chosen lifestyle is going to help convince me to play chicken?" Kurt realized too late the number of 'lifestyle' jokes he had opened himself up to, but luckily no one took the bait.

It was at this point Puck bodily picked him up, despite his wriggling, kicking, and shrieked protests (Kurt would admit they were shrieks. He did know the power of his voice, and he knew how to use it. He refused to accept, however, that he shrieked when he didn't intend to) and tossed him in the pool, rendering all argument completely moot.

"I hate you," Kurt announced to Mercedes as she rubbed his back with aloe. "I hate you so much."

"Bo, in no way was this my fault. You're the one who was tempted into a game of chicken by Puck, Santana, and Brittany. You tempted the sun, and this is your punishment."

"I was wearing sunscreen! And they didn't tempt me into it!" Kurt complained, aware he was being as dramatic as Rachel but not caring. "Strong sunscreen."

"Kurt, I've seen both of your parents, and I have no idea how you ended up with this skin, but no matter what you do you will end up looking like a lobster in Los Angeles sun." Mercedes sounded amused, but sympathetic.

"This is exactly why I didn't want to come here," Kurt moaned, his back aching and itchy.

"And you're already peeling. This is gonna be nasty," Mercedes said with a laugh. "Relax, white boy, it's mostly your back and arms. Unless you're shacking up with ski shop guy already, they won't be too noticeable."

"Mercedes! You're as bad as Puck!" Mercedes cracked up.

"I can't believe you hit him with a box of condoms. Where did you even find those?"

"His kitchen," Kurt answered, still lying down even though Mercedes had finished with the aloe. "Speaking of Puck, condoms, and things he might be up to requiring them in his kitchen..." Kurt began, giving her a look.

"Oh no, white boy, don't even go there. There's nothing going to with me and Puck. Went down that road once, never again," Mercedes swore, but Kurt didn't believe her for a minute.

"Mercy, come on. Don't think I haven't noticed how much Puck has changed recently. And you looked awfully at home in that lounge of his. How many times have you been over here lately?" Kurt asked.

"As many times as you have, white boy," Mercedes answered, but she didn't sound very convincing at all. "Look, I haven't let anything happen between me and Puck."

"Why?" Kurt asked, and Mercedes gave him the most incredulous look.

"I'm sorry, I could have sworn I didn't just get testimony in Puck's favor from someone he used to throw in dumpsters." Kurt rolled his eyes, and so did she.

"You didn't. And that was a long time ago. All I asked you was a simple question."

"Because it's Puck. He calls his dick Puckzilla. Still." Kurt tried not to laugh at that one, but couldn't succeed. "He's matured a little, but he has way more to do before he can get all up on this." Mercedes gestured to herself dramatically.

"Have you at least given him a chance?" Kurt asked, and Mercedes rolled her eyes again.

"Jeez, white boy, I never thought I'd hear you campaigning for Puck, especially when it comes to women."

"Despite the sheer number of condom boxes in Puck's house," Kurt said with a grin, making Mercedes laugh, "I think he really has changed, and I think you should give him a chance."

"Did he put you up to this or something?" Mercedes asked, and Kurt shook his head. He hadn't had any private conversations with Puck since he had gotten here... or ever, really. "Damn. All right, Puck's got one chance. And if he messes it up, I'll eliminate his favorite appendage, Puckzilla." They both looked at each other and died laughing.

"Fancy running into you here," a voice said behind him at the hot dog stand, and Kurt whirled again.

"You've got to stop sneaking up on me," he said to a grinning Blaine.

"You've got to be more observant. What are you up to today?" he asked before Kurt had a chance to retort.

"Nothing terribly much. I have some work stuff to catch up on that's been hanging over my head since March, but other than that I'm free." For the first time, Kurt took in Blaine's appearance. He was wearing swim shorts and a t-shirt, with a backpack slung over his shoulder. "Blaine, it's not that warm today."

"Very funny," Blaine said with a grin. "I'm dressed like this for the same reason I asked you if you have plans. Me and a few friends are headed down to the Jersey Shore today, and I was wondering if you wanted to come along. We'll be hanging out and possibly cruising around on my boat if we can find a place to dock it. My friends aren't quite as insane as yours, but I think they'll do." Kurt groaned. He didn't even want to think about beaches. "What?" Blaine asked, brow creasing adorably.

"Don't do that, you'll get wrinkles," Kurt said, reaching up to smooth his brow out and then remembering the concept of personal space. "Um, sorry."

"No problem," Blaine said, smiling a little.

"And the reason I groaned is because of my crazy friends, as a matter of fact. You remember I was in Los Angeles?" Blaine nodded. "I'm kind of pale, in case you haven't noticed, and I got some wicked bad sunburn."

"How bad?" Blaine asked, and when Kurt pulled up his sleeve to show Blaine his burnt forearm, the actor literally winced. "Ouch."

"Yes, so not only is the idea of a beach repulsive to me right now, but I don't want to augment my burns, and I don't think beach-going is very fun fully clothed." Blaine raised an eyebrow and Kurt blushed. "I mean I-"

"I know what you meant," Blaine teased with a grin. "Just wanted to make you blush. I wish I could stay here with you, considering this is the first time I've ever known you not to be busy, but I can't even imagine the horrible revenge my friends might come up with if I was to abandon them for a guy, no matter how cute." Kurt blushed deeper, cursing his pale skin for so many reasons. Blaine smiled and pressed a hand to his warm cheek, before remembering personal space himself. "I'm-"

"Don't worry about it," Kurt said, feeling breathless. "You should go, I wouldn't want any of your insane friends' revenge to affect me."

"No, you really wouldn't," Blaine said, sliding his hands into his pockets and looking as awkward as Kurt felt. "So, bye, I guess."

"Bye," Kurt said, wishing he didn't have to say it. He jumped a little when Blaine leaned forward to press a kiss to Kurt's cheek, but didn't mind at all. "I'll see you again soon, I hope?"

"Absolutely," Blaine said with a smile, headed off towards a group of boys who had been pointing at them during their entire conversation. It made sense that those were his friends.

As soon as Kurt got home, he dialed Mercedes. "I really hate you."

"This is getting ridiculous!" Rachel announced as soon as Kurt had told her about the failed beaching adventure. "Do I need to lock you two in a room to make you find time for each other? I don't think I'm above it at this point!"

"Rachel, calm down. Maybe this is the universe saying 'yes, he's cute, and gay, and single, and interested, but no, you can't have him'."

"Why must the universe constantly kick you in the nuts?" Rachel asked dramatically, flopping down on a chair in his kitchen.

"Why are you here so much?" Kurt asked, realizing Rachel had probably spent more time at his house recently than at hers. "You might as well live here for all the time you're spending with Paul." Rachel looked down at her hands uncomfortably. Kurt knew that look. "What's going on with you and Paul?"

"Nothing, we're just having some living-together-related issues," Rachel admitted.

"And you haven't dumped him yet?" Kurt asked, surprised only because he knew his best friend. "Usually that's the number one reason you send a guy out the door. You're welcome to move in here, if having nowhere to go is the problem." Rachel's lease had been up when she moved out.

"No, no, it's fine. We're making it work, and I want to make it work. I really like him. I love him, maybe even more than I loved Finn. And it's nothing major, he's just... he got a promotion," she finally spit it out with a sigh.

"And?" Kurt asked.

"He's never home now!" Rachel announced. "And it's awful, being alone in his big house, no matter how wonderful the acoustics are. And his new title makes even less sense!"

"I don't even want to know," Kurt said, trying to make Rachel laugh, but failing for the first time in their friendship. "Rachel, talk to him. If he really cares about you, he'll make time."

"Isn't that what I'm supposed to be telling you?" Rachel asked, and dammit, she had a point.

"That's different, Rachel. Blaine doesn't owe me anything. Paul made a commitment to you when he asked you to move in, and he needs to stick to it, no ifs ands or buts."

"You're committed to Blaine, whether you like it or not," Rachel pointed out, and Kurt sighed.

"Rachel, that's not what we're talking about here. We're talking about you and Paul. Blaine and I are entirely different, and also not as important. I can't say I'm in love with him, I barely know him! And you... you can see yourself having a future with Paul, can't you? At this point, I'm not even sure Blaine and I have a present!"

"Don't give up on him, Kurt. Blaine is a wonderful man. If you don't give up on him, I won't give up on Paul."

"Deal," Kurt said firmly, and they shook on it.

"Look who it is," Rachel muttered as she and Kurt walked out of Sardi's. Blaine was standing on the sidewalk on the phone, looking stressed and talking low. "Go talk to him, see what's up." Rachel pushed him away before Kurt got the chance to say anything.

"Blaine," Kurt said as soon as he had hung up the phone.

"Kurt, hi," Blaine replied, looking totally thrown.

"What's wrong?" Kurt asked, placing a hand on his arm gently.

"Nothing, I... that was my brother, and he was in a car accident, but he's fine. They just needed my permission to run some tests on him, so I gave some sort of power to his girlfriend so she could sign for me. I don't really..." Blaine sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Sorry, it's been a weird day."

"Blaine, what's taking you so long?" a voice asked not-so-gently. A man was standing in the doorway to Sardi's staring Blaine down. "Is your brother okay?"

"He's fine," Blaine called back, pulling his arm out of Kurt's grasp.

"Who's this?" the man asked, approaching Kurt.

"I..."

"He's just a friend," Blaine said, and he looked guilty as all hell.

"Blaine, what's going on?" Kurt asked, looking between the two.

"We're on a date," the man said confused, and Kurt heard Rachel gasp behind them.

"Oh!" Kurt said, faking cheer much better than he ever had on stage. "Well, I'm sorry I interrupted, I don't mean to interfere, I just saw Blaine looking upset and wondered what was going on with him. Right, buddy?" Kurt tried not to growl, punching Blaine perhaps a bit harder than was necessary in the arm.

"Right. I'll be right in, Max." The man accepted that and headed back for Sardi's taking a wide path around a steamed Rachel. "Kurt, I can ex-"

"Don't," Kurt said, switching off the cheer like it was a light switch. "I understand. I've made myself unavailable to you and you don't owe me anything. It's fine. Rachel," he called out, "let's go home."

"Kurt," Blaine called after him, but Kurt ignored him.

"What the hell was that?" Rachel whispered as they left, but Kurt ignored her too.

"I'm sorry," Rachel said later that night as they were curled up watching The Notebook. "We were all encouraging you to go after Blaine, we never realized he was such an asshole."

"Rachel, I meant what I said outside the restaurant," Kurt said, thoroughly cried out, head resting in Rachel's lap. "Blaine doesn't owe me anything, and we're not exclusive. He clearly gave up on chasing me, and I don't blame him. Why would he chase after me if he has someone attractive and clearly more available on hand?"

"Because you're worth it," Rachel said, brushing his hair back. "Even if he doesn't know that, you are worth it."

"Thanks, Rach," he said with a sigh.

"How many times is he going to call?" Rachel asked dramatically as his phone began to buzz again. "Don't you dare pick that up, Kurt."

"Rachel, stop it," he said, waving her off and picking up his phone. "Hello," he said, hoping his voice didn't sound too scratchy.

"Give me two minutes, and I'll explain everything," Blaine said, his voice fast and nervous.

"Go," Kurt said with a sigh, preparing himself for poor excuses.

"I decided to take your advice and audition on Broadway. The musical Once won eight Tony awards in its opening year, including Best Musical and Best Director. I got in touch with said director, John Tiffany, who is still involved with the project. He gave me a role on the condition that I would go on one date with his son, Max Tiffany. That's all that was, Kurt, business, and dirty business at that."

"Are you done?"

"Yes."

"Blaine, I'm not angry with you, or upset. I was both of those things, but I'm not anymore. You have the right to date whomever you please. Date every guy in the city, if you want to. I have no claim over you, and you have no claim over me. So I have no right to be upset with you, and you have no need to explain yourself to me." Blaine sighed; a rush of static assaulted Kurt's ear.

"The idea of you on a date with another man drives me crazy," Blaine began, "and for weeks, I've imagined the idea of you giving up on me, and... I can't stand it, Kurt. I just can't. I'm... completely crazy about you, even if you're right, even if we're not actually something yet, even though I know next to nothing about you. I know this is hard, and I know you have every right to give up on me, but I'm never going to give up on you. I would never want to date anyone else, not before I got a chance with you. And... this, this isn't easy, Kurt. For either of us, but I want this. More than anything. If you don't, I understand, but I'm not giving up on you until you say you've given up on me. Maybe not even then. And I am so sorry that you caught me in that position with Max, who was deplorable, and had no sense of humor, and tried to feel me up under the table and... and... and didn't laugh at my jokes, or blush when I complimented him, or have third-degree sunburns when I wanted to go to the beach with him, wasn't completely clueless about ski equipment, didn't want to look at my songs even though they probably suck, didn't me a spot on Broadway. He wasn't you. Even if I wanted to date around, everyone I met, I would always be comparing them to you... and they would never measure up." There was silence for a few seconds after Blaine had finished, and then...

"Do you give impassioned speeches a lot?" Kurt asked, making Blaine laugh nervously.

"Not unless I really like someone," Blaine said, and he definitely wasn't teasing.

"I told you, I'm not angry with you, and I care about you too, Blaine. Even if I have absolutely no reason to. For all I know, you're a serial killer with tons of dead male prostitutes in your body-glitter-covered basement." They both cracked up at that.

"I don't even have a basement," Blaine said, and Kurt could tell he was smiling. "So, I'm guessing this is some sort of step? We're... exclusive?"

"I'd like that. Maybe we can actually be dating to go along with that someday," Kurt said, and Blaine laughed.

"That would be... amazing. I should go, I have to go over to Tiffany's, John's, not Max's, and wring a contract out of him. I... I miss you." Blaine sounded so honest, Kurt just wanted to kiss him.

"I miss you too. Bye, Blaine."

"Bye, Kurt."

"He better have a damn good explanation for that," Rachel said, still rubbing his back, and Kurt sighed, ready to tell the story all over again.

A/N: Sorry, but there has to be a little bit of angst in a fic. It can't be all sunshine and rainbows and near-misses. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! :) I'm actually on time with my update for once.

Songs used/mentioned: None! What is this?

Review are Love.