Kurt shivered on the cold January sidewalk, lightly jogging in place. His clothing consisted of light shorts and tshirt, covered by layers upon layers of coats and scarves to keep him warm before he made it inside and began to warm up.  Registration would officially begin at 8am, but Kurt had been there for several hours already—and he was not alone. The line stretched down the block and around the corner. Everyone was trying to keep moving somehow, but the chatter in the air was slightly muted, as though it were still too early for everyone to be fully awake.

A group of cheers came from the front of the line, and as everyone turned to see what was happening, the cheers continued along the mass of hopeful dancers as a man turned his camera on the crowd. As he began to move, it was obvious that several other cameramen and Cat Deeley were with him, and people began throwing themselves into improvised performances in the street, hoping to stand out.

“It’s too cold for this,” a sleepy voice over his right shoulder said as he watched a mediocre b-boy perform in the middle of the sidewalk. Turning, he locked eyes with a short, attractive boy dressed in an almost comical number of layers.

“I know,” Kurt agreed, rolling his eyes slightly. “I’d rather save my energy for the actual audition.”

“Well yeah, but they are getting exposure already,” he pointed out. They watched the performer stumble and fall and throw himself back into his routine as if nothing happened.

“I’m sorry, I’m being so rude. My name’s Blaine.” The boy offered his gloved hand.

“Kurt,” he replied, taking Blaine’s hand and looking more intensely at his face. “Where are you from?” Oh. Hello. Oh god, I’m holding on to his hand too long.

“Originally? Ohio,” Blaine laughed as Kurt dropped his hand suddenly, “But now I live in Brooklyn. What about you?”

“I’m actually from Ohio as well, though I haven’t been back in a few years. I live in Astoria.”

“Where in Ohio?”

“Lima,” Kurt sighed. “Not my favorite place in the world.”

“I’m from Westerville! That’s only an hour or two away—what a coincidence.”

Kurt opened his mouth to reply, when—

“How do you guys know each other? What’s your story?” The pair turned, startled, to find a camera in their faces.

“I—wh—“

“I’m Blaine and this handsome young man here is Kurt,” Blaine said smoothly, wrapping an arm around Kurt’s waist. He looked over, surprised, and Blaine winked at him.

Who even winks anymore? Kurt felt himself blush.

“We actually just met,” Blaine continued. “So no real story yet, but check back with us in a few hours and maybe we’ll have something for you.” He winked again, this time at the camera, and squeezed Kurt’s waist before letting go as the cameraman left.

“I’m sorry.” Blaine looked properly shamefaced. “I just—I don’t know, when cameras—I mean, I know we’re not even—we just met, we’re not—I just—I’m sorry that—I didn’t mean to assume—”

“Blaine.” Kurt pressed his hand into Blaine’s upper arm gently. “It’s alright, I promise.”

“You’re really attractive,” Blaine blurted. Kurt turned bright red. “Oh my god,” he muttered to himself. “I’m sorry, I’m not usually like this, I just—”

“Blaine,” Kurt laughed, cutting him off.

“That didn’t happen. I didn’t say that. I was charming and smooth and our conversation wasn’t awkward at all.”

“…Okay.”

“So, Lima?”

Kurt laughed. “Yeah, Lima.”

 +++

After registering and several difficult rounds of auditions (and cuts) for a group of unsmiling producers later, two hundred dancers packed themselves into the theatre of the Manhattan Center. This was Kurt’s third year auditioning—he had been sent home after choreography the first year, and dismissed during the hip hop section in Vegas last year. He had spent the past few months taking classes in all styles and variations, hoping to be a bit more prepared this year.

“Wherever you’re from, today you’ll be representing New York City!” Nigel Lythgoe said, causing the remaining dancers to cheer loudly.

Kurt and Blaine sat together, watching as dancer after dancer poured their heart onto the stage—dancing for their families, friends, and themselves. Getting a ticket straight to Vegas was rare, but it was worth it to perform well. A great deal more were turned away—some politely, others not-so-nicely, and some were sent to wait nervously for the choreography section at the end of the day.  They watched a short brunette perform an innovative Broadway piece and get sent straight through to Vegas, two women who shouldn’t have even turned up for the auditions get sent home, and an impressively diverse b-boy get sent through to choreography before it was Blaine’s turn to walk up on stage. Kurt caught his breath.

Blaine was wearing fitted black shorts, a black polo, and white suspenders. The opening tune of his music began and Blaine started dancing. The number was whimsical and sweet and funny, and Kurt felt himself swoon a bit in his seat. He cheered loudly when Blaine finished, and thought he caught Blaine glance in his direction.

He listened apprehensively as Nigel gave carefully worded praise, but once Mary Murphy compared him to Evan Kasprzak of season 5, he sighed in relief. The judges asked him to stay for choreography to see if he could partner well, but Kurt knew he would be fine.

Another long hour later, he was finally prepared to audition. Nigel called Kurt onstage and cued the music to begin. Kurt began his piece with a quick rond de jambe, pulling his leg back into an arabesque, before moving into a panche. As he exhaled, he released his mind, trusting his muscle memory to do the work for him. Focusing on his extensions, Kurt embodied the music, allowing it to move through him fluidly. He was vaguely aware of the fact that the judges seemed to be letting him dance longer than most others so far, but he tried not to think about it too hard. When the music cut off, he breathed heavily and walked to the center of the stage.

The rest passed in a blur; he tried to focus on the criticism from the judges, but the adrenaline pounded in his ears. When Nigel held up a ticket to Vegas and waved it around, Kurt nearly collapsed. He sprinted up the stairs to get his ticket and awkwardly hugged Nigel before running out of the theatre.

Cat’s waiting outside the door, and he nearly jumped into her when he burst through the door with his outburst of “Vegas! Vegas, Cat. I’m going to Vegas.” He exhaled the last words and this time he really did collapse, falling onto his back and breathing heavily as she laughed. He laid his plane ticket over his face, and heard Blaine laughing. Kurt jumped up.

“Blaine! I made it!” he left the cameras and made his way over to Blaine, throwing his arms around his neck.

“I know,” Blaine said excitedly, “Congratulations!” He wrapped his arms around his waist and spun around. “I hope I’ll see you there. I’m here for another couple hours.”

“Do you…I could stay here, if you want,” Kurt offered. “So you’re not alone.” Was that too forward?

“Only if you want to,” Blaine said cautiously. “I don’t want to mess up your day or anything.”

“Oh please—I have nothing else to do. I cancelled everything for these auditions.” That wasn’t exactly true, but his tentative celebratory lunch could be postponed.

“If you’re sure.”

Kurt smiled. “I’m sure.” He linked his elbow through Blaine’s and steered him back into the theatre. “Let’s watch these last few people before you have to warm up for choreography, alright?”        

+++

Season 3’s Neil Haskell and season 5’s Jeanine Mason had taught the choreography. Kurt was one of the few people left in the audience, and he was nervous.

The past hour or so had been perfect; Kurt and Blaine had sat close together in the theatre, their sides pressed against each other. Kurt had helped Blaine stretch and warm up before the choreography, and he had grown increasingly aware of just exactly how muscular Blaine’s body was. And flexible. He had watched him over-extend his side split leap multiple times. His turns were flawless. He shouldn’t be as worried about Blaine’s fate as he was.

Blaine had been partnered with a curvy redhead jazz dancer with high kicks and an even higher ponytail. The pair seemed to be getting on well, and as they worked through the choreography together, Kurt could tell they were playing off each other. He felt a stab of jealousy, but brushed it off. He’s a dancer. He’s gay.

He crossed his fingers as the judges deliberated. When Nigel called three dancers, including Blaine, to the front of the stage, he was holding his breath along with them. As soon as Mary screamed “VEGAS” at them, he exhaled and closed his eyes. He opened them as Blaine came running down the aisle toward him, waving his ticket and pulled him into a tight hug. Kurt was a little too aware of the sweat making Blaine’s clothes cling to him as they celebrated.

“Thank you so much for staying, Kurt,” Blaine said, pulling back and catching his gaze. “I really do appreciate it.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Kurt waved it away. “Congratulations!”

“Yeah.” Blaine looked at his ticket again as they walked out of the theatre. He pulled his phone out of his bag. “Well—hey, I actually have to run, but—maybe I could get your number? We should get a celebratory coffee or something before we leave New York.”

“Of course.” Kurt took Blaine’s phone, resisting the urge to be nosy and entered his number. “Here.” Blaine had put on his coat and finished wrapping a scarf around his neck before taking his phone.

“Thanks. I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Kurt smiled, leaning in for a hug. Blaine turned his head and kissed Kurt softly on the corner of his mouth.

“It was nice to meet you, Kurt,” he winked sweetly before turning and walking out of the Manhattan Center.

Kurt touched the corner of his mouth briefly. Damn, Ohio.

+++

Bonus Links: Kurt's audition | Blaine's audition