Its New Year's Eve in New York City and Blaine is on his couch watching Ryan Seacrest on TV host an event only one train ride away. Theres a glass of Kurt's wine in his hand and a cigarette dangling from his lips, because Kurt isnt home and hell smoke inside if he wants to. Or so was his plan. He opened all of the windows, braving the winter chill, so the smell wouldnt linger. But, Kurt has hid the matches again and that damn cat decided to take nap with her paw resting on Blaine's lighter. And the last thing he needs is yet another kitty cut on his hand. Mr. Hummel is good, Blaine's gotta hand it to him. Even when he isnt home he stops Blaine from smoking inside. He cant, however, stop him from lounging around in his underwear. Or finishing off an entire bottle of wine. Or putting his feet up. Or laughing with Tina on speaker phone. She is giving her friend a play by play, only slightly tipsier than Seacrest himself but nothing on Blaine's buzz, of the event that her and Sam decided to attend live, like the sickeningly cute and stable couple they are.

“Oh my god, Sam. Miley Cyrus!” He can hear Tina croon. “Blaine! Blaine! Its Miley; we love Miley!” They both do not, in fact, love Miley. But, being in the thick of things with a mind full of alcohol will make you think you do. And Blaine must admit, she doesn't disappoint. Even from his dingy apartment on the screen of his modest television.

“Do you think she'll twerk?” Blaine asks, entertaining Tina's whims.

“Oh, I know she will twerk.” As the scantily clad icon claims the stage, Tina finds interest in entertaining another idea. “Speaking of twerking, are you with Kurt?”

Blaine giggles shamelessly, “What does Kurt have to do with twerking?” He thinks about it, then he starts blushing from thinking about it. Kurt's butt. His butt in those jeans of his and his dance pants and those legs that they just mold to. Damn it. He hides his blush in his hands lest the conniving cat rat him out. Running the hand down his face and rolling his cigarette between his teeth, Blaine recovers. “He's working tonight.”

“Blaaiinneee!” Tina whines into the phone. There's a moment of rustling and muted sound as Sam tries to wind Tina down and, perhaps hang her phone up. It can't be fun for him to feel like he's interrupting on his own date. But, Blaine thinks he can hear Tina kissing him soundly on the lips, so he's sure Sam is having a better night than him anyways. “What the hell are you doing on your couch, then? Go to his work!”

“I wouldn't want to be in his way.”

“He works in a club, Blaine. Not the ER. Just go and, ya know, be.”

“Why can't I be here....on my couch...plenty comfortable?” It's the same couch upon which he and Kurt have spent numerous nights together talking like they did Christmas Eve.

“Because who are you going to kiss at midnight? Pamela Lansbury?” The cat rolls over, exposing her belly, feet kicking against the air. It's as if she knows. And is oh so opposed to the prospect. Blaine would have to agree.

“Tina, I can't.”

“Can't sit there alone, not with the boy of your dreams when the year ends? Yes, I agree completely. Now, get off your ass, put some goddamn pants on, and go to the fucking ball, Cinderella. You have twenty minutes, pumpkin.” Then she hung up.

And maybe Blaine had too much to drink. Maybe he just really likes the way Kurt smiles when he's surprised. But, Blaine put on pants and a coat and he ran.

He took the ten flights of stairs from their apartment, thinking the pumping of his blood, like liquid electricity, would short circuit the elevator. He tore outside, and took off, careening down the concrete. The streets were empty. Everyone was probably watching Miley and waiting for the ball to drop in 14 minutes. Poor saps; they don't know what they're missing. They are so dazzled by a spherical mass of LED lights and metal. To them, Miley Cyrus in a nude bodysuit wiggling her ass is spectacular. But, Blaine knows spectacular. It's tall and slender and has these lithe limbs that move like the wings of doves. But, they can also be manipulated to be as sexy as sin. And he damn well knows, too. From his coy grin to those taunting hips. And those eyes. Those swirling pools of wonderful that give so muchr13; understanding and love, maybe sometimes hate, but also joy and that warm bubbly feeling in the pit of Blaine's stomach. They take, too. Like greedy azure twins, they take Blaine's breath away and, with it, his ability to think and speak and function and not make an ass of himself. Because it's Kurt. It is all Kurt, as it has always been. Blaine has been functioning as an outsider this whole time. The Kurt Show's biggest fan. But, he doesn't want to watch anymore. He wants to co-star. To be the Billy Crystal to Kurt's Meg Ryan. And, yes, Blaine is Harry right now and Kurt is his Sally and it's just like the movie. Blaine is going to bust in there and lay it on Kurt and then it'll cut to a clip of them talking about how magical their wedding was and then the credits roll and they'll be in that bliss forever. It's so romantic Kurt will die.

That is if Blaine doesn't collapse first. He ran nearly a mile in ten minutes and, with his track record of smoking and napping, that's something worth bragging about. But, thanks god he can see the lights of Venus, the music pouring from inside the club. It's Karofsky, Kurt's friend, at the door who listens to him huff and puff and pour his heart out, before letting him inside with a “Go get him, kid” and no check of his ID card.

Blaine can't say if it was fate or simple laws of attraction, but it was instant. As soon as he entered the bar, with less than a minute left to midnight, he found Kurt. And it felt as though he'd been looking for him forever. He wormed his way through to Kurt as the crowd around him began their countdown.

10, 9, 8…

Kurt was behind the bar but not serving anyone at the moment. He had taken a break to look up at the projection the bar provided of the countdown, fingers playing at his nutcracker broach. His face was so passive, clearly only excited to be nearing the end of his shift. That is, until he saw Blaine.

7, 6, 5…

His face drew up into that cheek to cheek smile, eyes twinklingr13; his face when he's surprised. “Blaine?”

4, 3…

Not wasting time, the younger boy reached across the bar, grabbing Kurt by his uniform tie.

2, 1….