KURT

When Kurt woke up, he burrowed himself further into his pillow and tried to fall asleep again. He'd been having such a wonderful and vivid dream, and this time, Blaine had not featured in it at all. His alarm went off again. Kurt groaned and dug his arms under his pillow, meaning to press it against his ears, when his hand met with something cold. He pulled away and sat up, yanking the pillow off the mattress. It was a condom wrapper. There were two more between the mattress and the headboard. Oh. Oh.

He looked around. The loft was empty (of people, that was- this time, his laptop, the stereo and the dvd player were still there). His partition was open- but without Rachel, there was no need for a modesty curtain any more. He was naked. Yesterday's clothes were disposed neatly in the hamper or hung out to air. It this was a cliché in a movie, he'd be gathering up his underwear and socks from under the couch or off the television set, but Kurt had never been the kind of guy who'd litter clothes all over the place, no matter how badly he needed to take them off (and he was starting to remember the previous night's definition of need).

His alarm went off a third time, and Kurt reached for his phone to switch it off. He found a message that said: You are wonderful. Call me if you change your mind! xxx Tim.

Kurt sighed and let himself drop back down in his bed. Tim. He had accepted all of Kurt's terms and conditions, and had arrived on his doorstep at 1 am, no questions asked, ready to have a good time and leave afterwards. Kurt felt a little flutter inside as he remembered the way Tim had looked at him (like he had been granted a ninety-seconds-free shopping spree in a designer outlet). It had been a boost to his self-confidence, there was no doubt about that. It had also definitely 'scratched the itch' (several times). But unfortunately, it hadn't erased any of the longing he felt, or the reason why he called Tim in the first place.

Kurt, Dani, Elliott and Santana had spent the rest of the previous evening talking, occasionally serious, occasionally hilarious. Then Dani had to leave because of her early shift, and Santana had walked her to the subway. Kurt had lingered at Elliott's place, not wanting to break the comfortable bubble of safety and warmth he was wrapped in. That was when it happened- he had almost let go of himself completely. Elliott had been saying something. Kurt couldn't even remember what it was now. All he knew was that he'd been thinking about how badly he wanted to kiss him. It distracted him so completely that Elliott noticed, and stopped talking to ask him if he was okay.

Kurt had mumbled some kind of excuse and left. On his way home, he remembered the phone number he had saved for a night such as this, and texted it his address and his rules.

Safety first, no second date, no sleep-over.

It had felt like something out of a bad porn (not that he had seen many, but he imagined that was what it would sound like). It had been a bit awkward at first, but Tim had been sweet and Kurt had been determined. His only concession to his modest self was to turn around the pictures of his family on his night stand. Tim had let himself out, still looking starstruck, and Kurt had fallen asleep almost instantly, reliving his exploits in his dreams with another man.

Kurt forced himself to get up, dispose of the wrappers and head to the shower. He had to be at NYADA for his video critique with Ms July, and he knew he'd better get rid of his sex hair if he wanted his nickname-free streak to continue. He ran the hot water and let it pelt down on his head for a long while as he tried to sort his thoughts. He wasn't ashamed or sorry about what had happened. He was just sorry that it had only turned out to be a momentary distraction. As soon as Tim was gone, Elliott was back on his mind. What was he going to do about that?

He hadn't found an answer yet as he knocked on the door of Ms July's small office. When there was no reply, he carefully tried it. The door was unlocked. A laptop stood opened on the desk. He wondered for a moment why she'd leave it there like that, but sheer intimidation on the part of Ms July probably kept it safe from any students trying to steal anything. Kurt checked his watch, then took a seat on one of the chairs.

About ten minutes after their agreed meeting time, Ms July walked in wearing dark sunglasses, an oversized bag and a Starbucks cup. "You're early," she declared.

"Actually-" Kurt started, then realized he hadn't been graded yet. "I am."

Ms July shook her head a little, and put her things down. As she took off her sunglasses, Kurt could see she looked very tired. Her eyes were red-rimmed. He knew he shouldn't ask, but it wasn't in his nature to ignore something like that.

"Are you okay?" he asked carefully.

"I'm super. I love feedback rounds. There's nothing I'd rather be doing," she replied sarcastically. Her breath smelled faintly like wine.

His grade in mind, Kurt bit back on a sassy reply and just waited. It was an approach that sometimes worked with Santana.

Ms July stared back at him for a moment. Then, her shoulders sagged and she briefly closed her eyes, rubbing them. "I had to let my cat be put down last night," she said. "Satisfied? Are you going to tell me to be moreprofessional? I'm not a robot."

Kurt felt like she was battling the memory of someone else. "I never said that," he replied gently. "I'm very sorry. Do you want to reschedule?"

Ms July shrugged. "Let's just get this over with. And keep this," she gestured at herself, "under wraps, okay? I don't need the rest of my students to know I have a soul."

Kurt smirked. "My lips are sealed."

Ms July nodded. Then she pulled out a folder with handwritten notes and sat down next to Kurt. She activated the laptop and scrolled through the files, which were sorted by date and last names. As she searched, Kurt tried to peek at her notes, but they were in a spiked shorthand that might as well have been hieroglyphics.

"Okay…Haley, Haverford…Hummel…here."

She opened the file, and Kurt braced himself. He was not new to video critiques- he had been filming himself singing and dancing ever since he was ten and got a camcorder for Christmas- and he knew the only way to improve was to study and analyze himself with an outsider's point of view. Even so, it was always a bit jarring to see the mistakes the mind glossed over in the post-performance rush.

"Last time," Ms July said, glancing at her notes as Kurt on screen took up his position on the floor, "I told you to work on your footwork."

Kurt nodded, focusing on his own feet on screen. The dance routine started.

"There. Improvement," Ms July said, "you couldn't have done that half a year ago." She sounded pleased and it was clear she was taking credit for it.

"It's still a bit…" Kurt trailed off and scrunched his nose, for a moment forgetting that he was watching himself.

"Chorus," Ms July finished. "But I'm not gonna flunk you for that if you show me you're working on it."

Kurt bit his lip, still watching intently.

"Okay, here we go," Ms July announced, and paused the video to put in on quarter speed. "Your spotting is fine, your arms are fine. But what, if you don't mind explaining, is that?"

Kurt groaned. The slow-motion made his movements painfully clear. "What am I doing?" he mumbled at the Kurt on the laptop. Before and after each turn, he rounded his back before straightening up again, making the final figure almost comically bouncy- when observed so closely and in slow-motion anyway.

"I was hoping you could tell me," Ms July said. "Here, again, and here-" She paused and played his flaws relentlessly.

"I didn't even know I was doing that," Kurt admitted.

"That's why we are doing this," his teacher reminded him. "You've given me what I asked for with your footwork, so I am confident I don't need to tell you this again either. Next time, I want you at this level-" she held up her hand in a horizontal line over Kurt's head on the screen, "at all times. Imagine your spine is a straight metal rod from your ass to your neck. No slumping."

"You're not flunking me?" Kurt asked a bit incredulously.

Ms July shook her head. "I'd have to flunk nearly everyone in my class, and how would that look on my teaching? No. This is something you can fix. You just needed to see it once."

Kurt nodded eagerly, glad for the chance he was being given. He had been sent to "remedial booty camp" for less.

Ms July let the rest of the routine play at normal speed, occasionally giving pointers. She took a lot of time for his feedback, and Kurt figured she was glad for the distraction. She complimented him on his choice of performance, but encouraged him to experiment with more difficult material during the next free block.

"With two of my students gone, we'll have more time in class for individual improv," Ms July said, and she smiled a little wryly. "The time I'll save not having to pamper Anderson alone gives us an entire extra class."

Kurt wasn't really sure if he was expected to laugh or not, so he opted for a small appreciative nod.

Ms July watched him for a moment, looking as if she was trying to make up her mind about something.

"He was here last Friday, you know," she said finally. "Would you believe he has tried to get my decision to flunk him overruled by the Dean? Unsuccessfully I may add. I had already shown him the video of his critique. For once, me and the old codger agree on something. That kid does notbelong at NYADA, no matter how much money his parents pump into this school." Ms July crossed her legs and sat back in her chair. "So he came to me with a different tactic. He begged me for a resit, claiming he had been badly prepared because of all the upheaval in his personal life." She raised an eyebrow and gave Kurt a questioning look.

"I don't– what did he mean?" Kurt's mind raced. Had someone died, his father, his grandmother? He got a chill. Was Cooper okay?

"He said you broke off your engagement, broke his heart and kicked him out on the streets," Ms July said.

Kurt did a double-take. "What?" he asked. "That's what he said?"

"Something like that. I tuned him out when he started blubbering," Ms July said, and shrugged. "It was very annoying."

"I'm sorry. I didn't expect him to use us as an excuse. We broke up weeks ago, and according to his facebook, his life has been 'party party party' with his best friend ever since he 'cut the old ball and chain', so…"

It actually irritated Kurt a lot that Blaine had so obviously moved on. Maybe it shouldn't, considering he had just spent the night with someone else too, but after all that talk of 'soul mates', Kurt had secretly expected a bit of a longer mourning period from Blaine.

"Blaine failed his critique because he doesn't believe in preparation," Kurt continued. "He thinks 'all art should be spontaneous'. He just rehashed a choreo we put together for Glee club two years ago," he said, feeling vindictive.

"Really? That was yours? It was terrible," Ms July said.

"It was the best we could manage on short notice," Kurt said defensively. "I tried to get more steps in but Blaine insisted on using the furniture as props."

Ms July rolled her eyes. "I never did understand why you were together in the first place-" she broke off and put up a forbidding hand. "And I don't care either," she added quickly, stopping Kurt from explaining. "All I care about is not having to deal with him anymore. I just thought you should know he's milking the end of your relationship for all it's worth. I doubt I'm the only one he told his sob story to, to get something out of it."

Kurt sighed. "I bet he didn't tell you I broke up with him because he cheated on me. Twice. Or, at least twice, anyway."

"He conveniently left that out. I guess it didn't sound very good when he was trying to paint you as the heartless, career-obsessed manorexic and himself as the caring father of your future adopted children."

Kurt's jaw dropped. "WHAT?" he called out, rising to his feet. He reigned in his temper immediately as Ms July put her hands up. Kurt sighed. "I don't even know where to start," he mumbled to himself.

"Then don't. It's not even a real insult. I think everyone here at NYADA should be career-obsessed. It's what you're here for. Which reminds me: I have something for you."

"Huh?"

Ms July got up and rummaged around in her bag until she found her phone. She scrolled through it, jotted down a number on a piece of paper, and handed it to him.

"A former director of mine, Hugo Pilcher. Give him a call."

Kurt stared at her. Was she hooking him up?

Ms July seemed to have read his mind and she shook her head. "No, no, not like that. He's doing a children's Christmas matinee off Broadway and his lead just broke an ankle. He's looking for a replacement and I said I knew someone who'd be perfect."

"Really?" Kurt asked, looking down at the number. "What are they playing?"

"Pinocchio."

Kurt lowered his hand, feeling his stomach drop at the same time. For a moment, he had gotten his hopes up, but it turned out to just be a dig at his face and his voice. Maybe she felt like she had something to prove after showing him her softer side. He gathered up his notes and put them in his bag. "Thanks for the review," he said, and hitched the bag on to his shoulder.

"At least think about it. It's easy money. Two weeks of rehearsals, three shows, and you're off with a thousand bucks in your pocket and a good quote on your resumé."

Oh. She was serious? Kurt frowned. "Why me?" he asked, still sceptical.

"You're the only one in my class whom I think could pull off learning the entire choreography on such short notice - and sing at the same time. I even checked with your vocal coach. He says the score is well within your reach."

"But Pinocchio…" Kurt sighed. "I just wished that maybe-"

"You'd be cast as Hercules?" Ms July said. "I believe in Christmas Miracles as much as the next gal, but I think you'll need to spend a little more time at the gym for that."

Kurt took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It felt like the talk with his dad at the shop all over again, when he lost Tony.

"Pinocchio is a perfectly good part," Ms July offered. "I was Peter Pan in a show for six months!" She rolled her eyes. "Definitely confirmed my resolution never to have kids."

"I just don't want to get typecast," Kurt confessed.

"The trick is getting cast at all, for all of us," Ms July said. "Look, with my recommendation and your NYADA schooling at your back, you got a foot in with this gig. Get a feel for the theatre, earn some money for Christmas presents, and worry about typecasting later. For now, you got a real chance here."

Kurt nodded. "Thank you." He felt a little guilty for assuming the worst.

Ms July nodded dismissively. As he put his hand on the door, he turned around.

"Merry Christmas, Ms July," he said.

She raised her Starbucks cup in salute.