KURT

"Somehow, dressing up for New Year's Eve in New York always ends up a glitter contest, doesn't it?" Elliott mused as they exited the subway.

Kurt eyed his friend, who was wearing a top hat, a sparkling jacket with matching earrings and a lot of eyeliner. Kurt himself was wearing his red dinner jacket, which was fairly modest, though he did accessorize with a bedazzled brooch. It was true they weren't the only ones on their way to a party dressed to impress. "You're just disappointed no one is stopping you for autographs tonight," he teased.

Elliott sighed dramatically. "Nobody loves me anymore…"

"Shut up," Kurt scolded him gently, and took his arm as they walked. "You know that isn't true." He smirked and paused deliberately, then said: "I happen to know that the little old lady two floors down at the loft is very fond of you."

Elliott chuckled. "It wasn't always like that. She used to give me and my tats very fishy looks when she spotted me going up to the loft until I helped her carry those bags of cat litter."

"No good deed goes unrewarded," Kurt replied sagely. "Here we are."

They looked up at a tall building where one window in particular stood out. It was wide open, and light was streaming out- along with loud, pumping music.

"Sounds like the party has already started," Kurt said.

"Isabelle must have very relaxed neighbours. Mine call the cops on me every time I so much as forget to plug in my headphones when I'm jamming," Elliott said.

Kurt shrugged. "It's New Year's Eve. I'm pretty sure the cops have something better to do than noise patrol tonight. Come on."

They made their way up the stairs to Isabelle's place. On the front door, Isabelle had posted a note telling new arrivals to text her in case no one heard the bell over the music, so Kurt did. Not long after, Isabelle opened the door, in a beautiful flower-patterned dress with a puffy petticoat and a big bow on her shoulder.

Kurt gasped. "Oh my god, is that-?" He asked, staring at her outfit.

Isabelle nodded and looked very pleased. She twirled around. "I couldn't resist," she said. "We had it in for the Dior vintage festival and it was almost my size..."

"You almost can't tell," Elliott said, equally impressed. "Side darts around the zipper, right?"

"And a little over the chest," Isabelle confirmed, frowning a little at her own cleavage before looking up and finding her smile again. "You must be Elliott."

"Gosh, yes, of course. Isabelle, Elliott," Kurt quickly introduced them, and Elliott shook Isabelle's gloved hand.

"Thanks for letting me tag along," Elliott said.

"Any friend of Kurt's is a friend of mine," Isabelle said graciously, then frowned. " Although… " She turned to Kurt.

"He's not going to break out in Christmas Carols when we're getting our kiki on, is he?"

"What?" Elliott said, sounding confused.

Kurt laughed. "I'll tell you once we get inside," he said, still chuckling.

Though Isabelle often complained about her one-bedroom apartment in Midtown, Kurt always loved going there. It was a whole different place every time he went. Isabelle changed her furniture almost as often as other people changed the background picture on their phones. Tonight, it looked extremely minimalist- a practical choice given how many people she had invited to fit into the place. Drinks were stacked in crates or coolers by the window sills and a plain wood pasting table held a selection of catering fingerfoods. The alcove that usually held Isabelle's bed was cleared out to make room for a DJ's mixing booth.

"Where's the kitchen?" Elliott asked, a little surprised.

"Over there," Kurt replied, pointing at the microwave on a shelf over a small sink

in the corner of the room. "Isabelle's not much of a cooking type." He watched fondly as Elliott shook his head. As dear as Elliott held his home-made food, Kurt knew his friend could never live like this. Then again, neither could he. There was something comforting about making Ohio food (or more specifically, his mom's recipes) in New York. His own kitchen at the loft was also the place he had finally been able to try out all of those foreign recipes he couldn't make in Lima for lack of proper ingredients.

"I feel like I have seen some of Isabelle's guests before," Elliott said, looking pensive. "Are they all models?"

"Well, some of them are," Kurt said, and subtly nodded at a group of tall men and women talking animatedly. "Mostly runway, but you may have seen some in magazines." Then he turned and cast a glance over his shoulder. "The blond twins over there are her caterers- they do a lot of stuff for Vogue whenever we have important guests over. The mink lady is Isabelle's fabric specialist- she knows where to get the best material for any of Isabelle's creations."

Kurt looked around the room for other people he knew. "There are Chase and Daphne, they're in Isabelle's team at the office."

"Is she okay?" Elliott asked, looking a little concerned.

Kurt followed his eyes and studied Daphne for a moment. "I think so. She usually looks like that." Then he noticed someone else near his colleagues. "Oh! Talking to Isabelle right now is Marigold, a fabulous designer. She was a special guest on RuPaul's Drag Race once, maybe you recognize her?"

Ellliott nodded enthusiastically. "Of course! Doesn't she have her own boutique in LA?"

"Yes! Isabelle adores her work. And she's super fun to talk to. I'll introduce you!"

Elliott and Marigold really hit it off, and Kurt used the opportunity to do a little mingling himself, and try the fingerfood. He was pleased to find that Isabelle's friends actually remembered him from the Thanksgiving party- he hadn't thought he had made such a lasting impression, as preoccupied as he had been with his first break-up with Blaine that night.

Just as he was helping himself to some canapés, Isabelle snuck on him by the window.

"I like him," she said.

"Huh?" Kurt let out, his mouth full of salmon cracker.

"Your new boyfriend. Much better than Blaine."

Kurt shook his head, hastily chewed and swallowed. "He's not. My boyfriend, I mean. He is definitely better than Blaine, though."

"He's not? But you seem so…" Isabelle said, circling her finger and trailing off. "Never mind. It's none of my business. I'm just as happy for you if he's a good friend."

Kurt smiled, but his mind was racing. Of all the people he had met in New York, Isabelle knew him the best (apart from Elliott). For her to think they were a couple... Was it just his side? Was he making moon eyes around Elliott? Or was she seeing something in Elliott too? Kurt was just about to ask when Isabelle continued.

"Do you know if he's looking for a job? Because I was talking to him and he really knows his stuff. I could use someone like him at the office."

"Oh, um, he just started this other job but his heart isn't really in it, so I can always ask him," Kurt said, a little surprised. "What kind of job is it?"

"I need someone on my team with technical experience," Isabelle said. She cocked her head. "You know I'd ask you first but you said you wanted to concentrate on NYADA for now," she offered a little apologetically. "You'd definitely be my first pick."

Kurt smiled. "That's very sweet, but you're right. Doing Pinocchio only confirmed my belief that I'm in the right place right now. I love fashion, but Broadway was my first dream."

"And what kind of fairy godmother would I be if I didn't tell you to follow that dream?" Isabelle asked playfully. "Now go on, enjoy yourself. I need to go talk to my DJ about getting some party music up in here."

"I can't believe I may actually work at Vogue before I even graduate!" Elliott said, gesticulating so much his top hat almost slid off the back of his hair.

"A perk of being friends with Kurt Hummel," Kurt said smugly, and reached over to adjust Elliott's hat.

"One of many perks," Elliott replied, and kissed Kurt's cheek before he could draw back. Kurt blushed a little, and wondered if this was what Isabelle saw between them.

"I need another virgin cocktail," he said, and rose from his make-shift seat on a window sill. Elliott caught his wrist and held him back.

"You can have a real one, you know," he said. "Solidarity only goes so far- it's New Year's Eve. Enjoy yourself."

Kurt looked at him, and added yet another thing to the list of selfless kindness that made Elliott a better friend than Blaine. "I am," he said honestly.

Not long after, the party was rocking. Everyone- even Daphne- was up and dancing. Kurt was shimmying for all he was worth, mouthing the lyrics of a party song to Elliott, who was playing air guitar. Kurt was letting it all go; he had never felt more at home than here, dancing with his best friend, surrounded by beautiful and fashionable people who had taken him in as one of their own. It was exactly the way he had always imagined life in New York to be.

Of course, when he had imagined it, lying in his bed back in Lima, the clothes in his hamper still damp from the pee balloons a group of fellow students had thrown at him from a car in drive-by style, he had also imagined himself having a large Broadway role and a gorgeous older lover. That part of his fantasy hadn't quite come true yet, but he didn't want to be ungrateful for the things he already had. Rocking with the crowd from Vogue was already pretty big for a small-town boy.

He glanced at Elliott. Maybe he shouldn't wait until the Winter Showcase. Maybe tonight was the night. What if, at midnight, he just kissed him? Not on the cheek, but a real kiss, on the lips? (the kind that they always panned the camera around in slow motion)

As soon as the idea had formed in his head, Kurt started to feel giddy. Time was ticking, and the closer it got to midnight, the more excited he got.

"What's on your mind?" Elliott had to stand very close and shout into Kurt's ear to be heard over the music.

"Why?" Kurt replied, feeling a little caught.

"You keep grinning like something's funny," Elliott said. "Is it someone behind me?" He continued dancing but moved so he could look over his shoulder.

Kurt shook his head. "I'm just happy to be here with you," he said loudly.

His reply made Elliott smile. He leaned over and put an arm around Kurt's shoulders. "Me too!"

Then, Kurt could feel his phone buzzing in his pocket. He briefly considered ignoring it, but then Elliott- whose thigh was pressed against Kurt's- felt it too.

"Your phone!" Elliott shouted, and Kurt nodded. Elliott let him go so he could take it from his tight jeans. Kurt looked at the display. It was Santana. Then he looked at the time. He had 8 minutes to get rid of her.

He mimed going outside for a bit to Elliott, who gave him the thumbs up and continued dancing.

"This'd better be good," Kurt said into his phone as he picked up, standing on the landing in front of Isabelle's apartment. He had left the door a little ajar so he wouldn't have to call someone to be let in again. He squinted a little to focus on the sounds from the other side of the line over the thumping music from inside.

"No, it's bad," Santana announced ominously, "like, really fucking bad."

Kurt's mood plummeted. "What happened?" He pulled the door closed with one hand and leaned against it.

"Well, I went to the loft with a friend, a female friend, okay- and we were just about to get our private party on, if you get what I mean-"

"Wait. My loft? You're at my place? I thought you gave me back your key!"

"Well, I gave you back a key…"

"I can't believe this," Kurt mumbled, shaking his head.

"Your place is hotter than mine, I have no problem admitting that. It's got so much space and you can be, like, super loud up here-"

"I am not okay with you using my place for a booty call, Santana," Kurt said sternly.

"Why, it wasn't like we were gonna do it on your bed. Anyway, that's not why I called."

"It's not?" Kurt asked flatly, bracing himself for the rest of her bad news.

"No. The actual problem is that your ex-boyfriend completely killed my vibe by showing up with his BFF and the New Directions 2.0 to serenade you in front of your door when you're not even in the fucking building."

"What ?"

"Yeah. We tried ignoring it but it was really loud," Santana said.

"Not to mention fucking awful," a familiar voice added.

"Wait… who's that?" Kurt asked sharply. "Put me on speaker phone."

The line crackled for a moment.

"Hi Kurt."

"Miss July ?" Kurt asked incredulously. "What...how…?"

"We frequent the same bars. Nice place you got here."

"I don't understand. You like guys . You stole Brody from Rachel."

Kurt heard his teacher sigh. "Please don't make me explain how bisexuality works. It's not on the curriculum this semester."

Santana snickered.

"Anyway, I had my eye on her ever since she outed Brody at NYADA, and when she showed up for NYADA Extentions-"

"Wait, how do you even know about that?" Santana interrupted.

"I know everything that goes on in my classroom," Cassandra July replied.

"Really? So has anyone ever used the mirrors to-" Santana's voice dropped to a whisper and a soft laughter followed. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Yes, back to the acoustic harassment problem," Santana said, clearing her throat. "At some point we couldn't take it anymore, so I opened the door and told Blaine to get the hell out of there and he basically just broke down. It was pathetic. He started crying and telling me this sobstory about how he had to move back to Lima because he was thrown out of NYADA-"

"Boohoo," Cassandra July added. "What did he expect? After I flunked him for Dance and Carmen did the same for Vocal Performance, he didn't even bother showing up for the rest of his critiques."

"Wait, Blaine's out of NYADA? Like, out out?" Kurt asked. He had been so busy with his own exams and the musical that he hadn't heard anything about that yet.

"Out as in so long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodnight ," Cassandra said gleefully. "And good riddance to him."

"I think his plan with the serenade was to convince you to come back to Lima with him," Santana said. "A fresh start or something. He mentioned having a one-way ticket for you."

"More like a no-way ticket," Cassandra added.

"What did you tell him?" Kurt asked quietly.

"I said I didn't know where you were, but that you were a single, attractive gay male in New York at New Year's Eve so you were probably getting some, and that he should take his ragtag band of Lima Losers back to the land of Buckeye Chuck and stay there. I think he took it badly," Santana said.

Kurt sighed. He knew he had dodged a bullet by not being home tonight, but just the thought of Blaine trying to win him over with yet another song after everything that had happened...it was too much.

"Okay. Uh. Thanks for telling me, I guess," Kurt said.

Suddenly, he heard shouting and cheering from inside. It was the New Year. His phone started buzzing in his hand with messages coming in.

Santana's side of the line was almost quiet. Knowing what they were most likely doing didn't make Kurt feel any better.

"Hello?" he asked irritatedly.

"Sorry, so maybe our vibe isn't completely killed," Santana said, sounding a little out of breath. "Happy new year, Kurt."

"Yeah. You too."

Kurt hung up and realized he had forgotten to tell her (again) to stay off his bed.

The door opened. "Happy New Year!" Elliott said cheerfully, throwing his arms around Kurt and giving him a tight hug. "I love you, man," he said, a little throatily.

Kurt hugged him back. "Yeah, me too," he said, not sure what else to say. Kissing him now seemed out of place. Maybe it hadn't even been the right idea to begin with. It had worked for Blaine -in a way- but did he really want to start their relationship like that? By kissing someone who wasn't expecting it and forcing his feelings onto him that way?

"Who was that on the phone?" Elliott asked, and Kurt was pulled back from his thoughts.

"Santana. Apparently Blaine showed up at my place to ask me to go back to Lima with him."

"Huh?"

"He dropped out of NYADA."

"Not him too? What's with you guys? First three students out of twenty in the entire country are from the same state, then two quit ?"

"I know."

Then Elliott cocked his head. "Wait. What was Santana doing at your place?"

Kurt groaned. "Having sex with my NYADA dance teacher. Probably somewhere on my vintage furniture."

Elliott shook his head. " Sometimes I think you are the only sane one in your clique."

Kurt smiled a bit, genuinely this time. "To be fair, Miss July is very fit for her age. Killer abs."

"Like yours," Elliott stated and waggled his eyebrows.

"Right." Kurt rolled his eyes.

"I hereby decree that this is the year you stop putting yourself down," Elliott said, raising his chin and giving Kurt a mock-arrogant look. Kurt couldn't help but smile.

"I'll try," he promised. "Let's get back inside. I want to give Santana plenty of time to clean up after herself before I go home."

Elliott nodded and led the way. On his way back to the music, Kurt tried to let go of his disappointment. There was still the Winter Showcase, after all, and this whole plan had been an impromptu one anyway. He had come here to have a good time with his friends and there was no reason he couldn't still have that - even if he was looking at a day of disinfecting his furniture in the morning. And maybe he could give the New Year a few more days to settle before he added that gorgeous older lover to his list of achievements.

Notes: When I did my re-watching research for this fic, I focused on the scenes with Kurt & Elliott. I completely left out the '100' episode because there was no NY in it- and thereby missed that it brought Santana and Brittany back together. Sorry- in this AU, Santana is clearly still single.