Author's Notes: Hellooooo! Sorry it's been a while since I've updated, I've got exams coming up so I've been bogged down with revision. But I've already started on the 6th chapter, so there shouldn't be as much of a wait for the next one :)

Thanks again Tanya for beta-ing this one, you're awesome!

Anyway, here's chapter five - let me know what you think!

Enjoy!

Kurt and Blaine sat at the kitchen table in the loft for a long time that Saturday morning. They ate omelettes, drank coffee and just talked.

It was a little awkward at first when Kurt attempted to explain what had happened to Sebastian. He consciously avoided mentioning Blaine's drunken mutterings and decided to just lead with the fact that Sebastian had to get back because of an early flight - which was partly true.

Blaine seemed to accept this information easily enough and didn't appear to remember anything else that had happened (and if he did, he didn't bring it up).

Rachel got back from a shopping trip (and of her purchases, one included a new packet of bobby pins, which she would hide in a place that "Santana would never look in million years") at about two o'clock and joined the pair in the kitchen.

She and Kurt were currently in the process of telling Blaine about one of their many drama-filled show choir competition experiences.

"Wait, so you guys were at the competition without your male lead, only to find that the other teams had collectively stolen your entire set list?" Blaine asked incredulously, sitting on the edge of his seat.

"Yep," Rachel answered with a sigh.

Kurt just nodded into his coffee.

"Well, what did you do?"

"Well," Rachel started, and she then went on to tell the whole tale of how they turned the whole thing around at the last minute when Finn arrived with a new song and they only ended up winning the damn thing.

Kurt decided not to give his own commentary of the event, as he knew how much Rachel loved telling this story. She must have told it at least a dozen times, and she always made sure to include how she was the one to go and belt out Don't Rain On My Parade on the fly, which - in her opinion - contributed hugely to their win. Which, Kurt admitted, probably did, but he wasn't going to let Rachel know that.

"Wow, your glee club sounds like it was a lot more exciting than ours," Blaine commented when she'd finished.

Rachel just raised her eyebrows in a "you have no idea" kind of way.

Kurt then turned to face her, "Hey, speaking of the boy who saved our first competition…"

"Oh, don't give me that look," she sighed, "I've already called him, thank you very much."

"Oh," Kurt tried to hide his surprise, he hadn't expected his friend to keep her word. "And?"

"He's fine. Lima's fine. Your dad and Carole are fine. Glee club's fine. Mr Schue's fine," she counted them off on her fingers as she went through the list.

"Well I'm glad to hear it. I, however, already know all of that, because I talk to him all the time. I was actually wondering about the "you and him" situation."

She sighed again, clearly wanting this topic to be avoided.

"Fine. Just fine," she stood up quickly and grabbed the empty coffee pot, "Anyone want more coffee?"

"I'll take a cup," Blaine answered, confused at the sudden change of atmosphere.

"Rachel," Kurt warned.

The girl in question slowly turned away from the counter, "Okay, fine. I told him that he could come over for dinner on Friday night."

She looked up from the floor to meet Kurt's confused gaze, "And I told him that… um… I told him you'd cook."

"What? What do you mean you-"

She cut him off quickly, "Just give me a second to explain, OK?"

"I'm listening."

"OK, so we got to talking, and I think he was kind of hinting for us to meet up. And the more I thought about it, the more I realised I do actually want to see him. I don't know, it's like since the break-up, I haven't let myself miss him. But I do. I really, really do, Kurt. But obviously I couldn't just come out and tell him that..."

"Sure, sure, God forbid that you two were actually honest with each other. You know, I hear truth-telling usually wrecks relationships."

Blaine chuckled at this, but upon noticing Rachel's glare, attempted to cover it with a cough.

"OK, I'm just going to ignore that wildly un-helpful comment," she continued, "So anyway, I ended up telling him that it was your idea to have a sort of "reunion dinner" and that you would cook. He's flying in straight after school on Friday. Please, please don't be mad."

Kurt just looked at her critically for a few moments.

"OK, fine," he exhaled finally. "I suppose this is what I get for attempting to talk some sense into you. But you can make me a coffee," he turned back to the table and held out his mug to her.

"Thank you, thank you!" she exclaimed excitedly, before turning back to the counter quickly and making more coffee.

The three were silent for a few minutes until Blaine spoke suddenly, "Uh… Rachel?"

"Yeah?" the girl replied, pouring the steaming liquid into the boys' mugs.

"Do we have rehearsal today?"

"Crap."

"I'll take that as a yes," Kurt commented, taking his drink.

"It's okay," Blaine said, standing up and looking at his watch, "we've got about twenty minutes until we absolutely have to leave."

Rachel nodded before running swiftly across the apartment and behind the curtain of her bedroom.

Kurt watched as Blaine hovered awkwardly over the kitchen table. The boy was clearly unsure how he was supposed to get ready, when the only things he had with him were the clothes he'd been wearing since the night before. Kurt looked down at the newspaper in front of him, waiting for the inevitable question.

"Um… Kurt?"

"Hmm?"

"Is there any chance I could take a shower?"

Kurt smiled to himself at Blaine's anxious expression, he looked worried that he'd overstepped some kind of boundary by asking this question.

"Huh? Oh yeah, sure. Go ahead," he replied nonchalantly, as if handsome boys taking showers in his apartment was a regular occurrence.

"Thanks," Blaine sighed, relieved, before he exited the kitchen at a pace as swift as Rachel's.

Blaine took a shower, there wasn't time for him to go and pick something up to wear from his dorm room, so he borrowed a t-shirt and sweat pants from Kurt.

After twenty minutes of running around the apartment like headless chickens, the Maria and Tony of New York City were ready to leave.

"Oh," Rachel said suddenly, as they were heading out the door, "if you go to the store, can you pick up some more lemons? I forgot to get some when I went out, and I really need them for my throat right now."

"Will do," Kurt called from where he sat at the kitchen table, "have a good rehearsal."

He had just begun flicking through his journal, trying to figure out what assignment he should do first, when Blaine's head popped round the front door.

"Um… Kurt?"

Kurt stopped chewing the end of his pen, and looked up from his book to see Blaine leaning against the door, "Yeah?"

"Thanks again for letting me stay here…"

Kurt attempted to ignore the way his t-shirt hugged Blaine's chest, "Blaine, it was nothing, you don't have to-"

"No. I mean it. I've heard that I'm a pain in the ass when I'm drunk, so thanks."

Kurt just laughed, and decided not to argue with him on that one.

"Blaine!" the pair jumped at the sound of Rachel's screeching from down the hall.

"Coming!" Blaine yelled back, before poking his head around the door again.

"Oh, and thanks for breakfast, well lunch. Brunch, I guess," he babbled, "You make the best omelettes; they might even be better than my mom's."

Kurt felt the corners of his mouth twitch, "Well, I try."

"Blaine, I will not hesitate to get the bus without you when it gets here!"

Blaine just shook his head and laughed.

"She's not kidding," Kurt commented.

The boy's laughing ceased, but only slightly, "I'll see you Monday?"

"The usual place," Kurt confirmed, "we still need to figure out what you're going to do for your "public performance" assignment."

"Oh yeah," Blaine said, remembering, "I'll tell you what, you help me come up with a decent idea and your grande nonfat mochas are on me for a week. Deal?"

"Deal."

Kurt had been studying for what felt like forever. In truth, it had only been an hour, but there was only so much one could read on "Stage Directions And Their Importance In Today's Performing Arts Society". Kurt closed the textbook in front of him and sighed. He needed to get out of the apartment for a while. Yes, that's what he'd do, have a quick study break and then come back, ready to write an essay on… whatever it was he'd just been reading about.

As he made his way to the store, he let himself wonder about Blaine. He hadn't really had the time to think much about the happenings of last night. The morning went by kind of fast and although Kurt had wanted to hint towards the question of where the two of them stood with each other, he hadn't brought it up. Rachel's presence and the fact that the idea simply terrified him were the two main factors of this.

But now, as he walked down his familiar street, and took in the familiar sights, the only thing he found himself thinking about was Blaine.

What does it mean if someone repeatedly asks for you when they're drunk? Would you stay the majority of the day at someone's apartment, talking about everything and anything, when you probably have a bunch of other things to do, with someone you just consider a friend? He didn't know the answers to these questions.

All of the other guys he'd ever been with had been straight to the point with their feelings. But Blaine was… Blaine. He was predictable, yet un-predictable at the same time. Predictable in the sense that after only knowing the boy a few weeks, Kurt could usually sense Blaine's moods and opinions on various things. But completely unpredictable in the sense that Kurt was clueless of their current relationship status.

Why did everything have to be so complicated? Why couldn't it just be commonly accepted for people to just come right out with their feelings? The world would be a much simpler place.

Kurt was putting lemons and pop tarts on the checkout counter when he realised it would probably be best to actually talk to someone about his woes. Rachel was at rehearsal, so she was out. He could call Mercedes (why had it been so long since he'd spoken to her?), but it was before six, so she was probably still in the studio. That only left Santana. Wonderful.

After paying for the lemons and pop tarts. He made his way across the street to the diner. He didn't have to confide in Santana. He could just drop by, maybe order some fries (he hadn't eaten since the omelettes). If the topic came up, he could casually mention Blaine's drunken mumblings and see what Santana thought of it all. At least she'd be straight to the point.

"What's your problem, Romeo?" was Santana's way of greeting once she had spotted him in a booth, and made her way over.

"Can a friend not come and stop by another friend's place of work to just be a good friend nowadays?"

She raised her eyebrows.

"I used the word "friend" too much in that sentence for it to be convincing, didn't I?"

She nodded, put down the tray she'd been carrying on the table, and sat down opposite him.

"I'm due a ten minute break anyway," she sighed, taking a handful of his fries, "spill."

And so he did. After a while, he didn't even care that it was Santana who he was talking to. He was just relieved to finally tell someone about everything that had been going on inside his head since Blaine came into his life. Sure, he'd had various conversations with Rachel on the subject; but he had never just stated his feelings point blank to someone before. It felt kind of liberating. And luckily for him, Santana was too busy eating his fries to butt in with snarky comments after his every sentence. She just listened.

"You've really fallen for this guy, huh?" she asked, after he'd finished his rambling.

He just nodded. Whatever he said, she was going to judge him for it, might as well cut to the chase and be honest.

Santana looked at him for a moment.

"Well, I'm no expert," she said, "but from my experience, the only time someone talks about you obsessively when they're drunk, is when a) they've got some built up hate towards you, or when b) they've got some built up "other" feelings towards you. And considering you two have been joined at the hip for past couple of weeks, I'm betting on it being the latter."

"We haven't been-" Kurt started.

"Hey. Only ten minutes. Truth time, remember?"

He just sighed and stuffed a handful of fries in his mouth.

"Anyway, you didn't need to get him drunk to figure out that he liked you. From what I gathered, the dude's been pretty obvious from day one. He probably doesn't think you like him that way, because, let's be honest, you don't exactly wear your heart on your sleeve, do you, Hummel?"

Kurt scowled at this.

"You wanna know what I think you should do?" she said, standing up and picking up the tray.

"Yes."

"Tell him, you fool."

Kurt immediately opened his mouth to protest, but she beat him to it.

"I'm not even gonna waste my time listening to your pathetic reasons not to," Santana sighed, turning her back, "I'm just gonna walk away."

Kurt sighed, yet again, and looked down at the table. He had thought about this option. He'd thought up endless scenarios when he'd had the courage to just tell Blaine honestly how he felt, and asked him how he felt in return. But to actually go through with it? No. No, no, no. That would be crazy, right?

His mind flashed back to the sarcastic comment he'd given Rachel earlier that day,

"…God forbid that you two were actually honest with each other. You know, I hear truth-telling usually wrecks relationships."

God, he was a hypocrite.

Was it such a crazy idea?

I mean, the worst that can happen is that he doesn't feel the same way, Kurt thought, would it be so awkward to still be friends if he doesn't?

And what if he does have feelings for me too? What if I haven't made up all of those signs in my head?

Kurt sat in the diner and ran through the pros and cons of the decision he had to make for longer than he'd care to admit. But when he put down some dollar bills on the table, and heard the jingle of the diner door behind him, his mind was made up.