Chapter 19

"Is that for you or for a gift?" Kurt leaned in closer to inspect the sweater in Blaine's hands.

"Neither; just looking," Blaine folded the shirt and replaced it in the stack. He gave Kurt a funny smile, "You're very interested in everything I look at."

Kurt turned quickly to face another rack of clothing when he felt a warm blush color his cheeks, "Just curious as to what Blaine Anderson wears outside his Dalton blazer."

"You've seen me in clothes other than my Dalton blazer," Blaine moved to stand beside Kurt. He picked absently through the hangers.

"Yes, when I've been around you've worn a Dalton cardigan, a Dalton polo, and then of course that one fateful day you wore a Dalton sweatshirt to Warblers practice and Wes almost went into cardiac arrest," Kurt rolled his eyes, "You do own something outside your Dalton apparel, right?"

Blaine laughed; a sound that colored Kurt's cheeks even more, but thankfully Blaine seemed oblivious as he continued to push through the rack of clothing, "Yes, I own things outside my Dalton clothes."

"What kinds of things do you wear?" Kurt prodded.

Blaine shrugged, "I don't know. Just…clothes."

Kurt gaped at him openly, "You read Vogue, Blaine, and you're gay. I know you know that there is no such thing as just clothes."

Blaine smiled warmly and gave the lapel of Kurt's jacket an affectionate tug, "Me being gay does not mean I'm obligated to have your impeccable sense of fashion."

Kurt blushed again at the compliment. He really needed to get a handle on that; Blaine could only remain oblivious for so long, right? He let out a huff of frustration, "Blaine."

"Kurt."

Kurt gave him a pointed look. Despite his nearly inescapable blushing, he had quickly grown to love how easy things were with Blaine. The quick banter; the endless chatter—Blaine had worked his way into Kurt's heart faster than anyone else had even managed to graze the edges. "You're being intentionally abhorrent in your avoidance of the question. I refuse to believe you just throw on the shirt you found on the bedroom floor."

"And I refuse to believe you're actually feeling as petulant as you're acting about my lack of response," Blaine broke into a full grin, "Come over and see for yourself if you're so curious."

Kurt blinked, "Come…come to your dorm?"

Blaine nodded, "Yeah, sure, if you're in no hurry to get home that is."

"No, no hurry at all!" Kurt said almost breathlessly.

Blaine gave him a funny look, but then turned his gaze back to the displays in the store, "I'm striking out here. Do you see anything?"

Kurt admired the fringe of Blaine's hair against the white of his uniform shirt when he tipped his head back to look at a higher rack of dresses, "…no."

Blaine tipped his head back down and pressed a hand into the small of Kurt's back, "Lets try somewhere else then."

"We've already tried all the department stores," Kurt took a half step in closer to Blaine. He caught their reflection in a display window and he pretended for just a minute the gorgeous boy beside him was more than just his friend; that the hand that had already left his back had actually meant something, that he could move his hand just a little closer and lace his fingers between Blaine's…

"Kurt?"

Kurt startled out of his daydream, "Sorry, were you saying something?"

"I asked if you wanted to check out that new boutique over by the Gap."

"Oh, um, sure." Kurt trailed after Blaine and tried to keep his mind from drifting.

They prodded through the racks of clothes, but Kurt's previous shopping high had taken a dip. Blaine wasn't his and it was silly to—

Kurt felt something soft brush the back of his neck and then the smell of Blaine's cologne was right behind him, "Look."

Kurt looked down to see soft, deep blue fabric hanging against his neck. A scarf. He ran his fingers over the edge and moved to look in a mirror on the wall. He twisted it around with quick fingers until it was lying just right. He smiled at Blaine, "Good eye."

Blaine nodded with a self-satisfied smile, "You need to have that."

Kurt groaned, "What I need is more than twenty dollars in my bank account. I don't know why I even agreed to torture myself by coming here today."

Blaine chewed at his lip for a minute before untwisting the scarf from Kurt's neck and striding toward the cashier purposefully.

Kurt chased after him, "What're you doing?"

"Buying you a scarf." Blaine replied pleasantly. He flashed the cashier a smile as he pulled out his wallet.

"Blaine, you really don't have to do that." Kurt watched in mild alarm as Blaine scribbled his signature out on the bottom of a receipt.

"I want to," He held out the bag toward Kurt, "It can be my Christmas present for you."

Kurt's fingers brushed Blaine's when he took the bag, "Thank you."

Blaine pulled out his phone to check a text, but he flashed Kurt a quick smile, "You're welcome."

Kurt trailed behind Blaine for the rest of the shopping trip, his fingers occasionally dipping into the bag to touch the soft fabric.

Blaine glanced over at him as they climbed into the car, "You still up for coming over for awhile?"

Kurt bobbed his head up and down quickly.

"You sure? You seem a little out of it." Blaine looked over again as he navigated his way out of the parking lot.

"I'm fine," Kurt's fingers reached unconsciously to touch the scarf again, "Just a little distractible."

"It's been a long week—you've been studying every time I see you," Blaine's eyes were on the road but he smiled for Kurt and clapped a hand down on his knee, "Good thing it's Friday, right?"

Kurt nodded; tried to ignore how much he melted under the warmth of Blaine's hand against his leg. He's your friend; do not screw this up. Do not screw this up. Do. Not. Screw. This. Up.

When they pulled back into the lot out front of Blaine's dorm, they slipped and slid across the icy parking lot.

"Fuck," Blaine hissed when he nearly wiped out in front of the doors; his hands flailing out wildly to clamp down on Kurt's arm.

"I don't think I've ever heard you curse," Kurt quirked an eyebrow and patted a hand over Blaine's still locked around his elbow, "Not very dapper, Mr. Anderson."

"Shit, ass, damn, fucking shit Goddamn!" Blaine cried out, drawing a few glances from the scattering of students outside.

"Shh!" Kurt laughed despite himself.

Blaine grinned as they moved into the warmth of the front lobby, "I'm not always the pristine prep school guy, ya know."

"I know." Kurt waved pleasantly to a few boys he recognized as they made their way up the two flights of stairs to Blaine's floor.

Blaine smiled at him, "It seems like you're making some good friends here."

Kurt nodded, "People are wonderful here."

Blaine paused outside a door with a black 203 painted across the front, "You miss your McKinley friends though."

Kurt shrugged, "Yeah, I do…not much to be done for it though, is there?"

Blaine looked momentarily conflicted, but over what, Kurt wasn't sure.

"Are we going to go in or just stand out here?" Kurt finally glanced down toward Blaine's hand still resting on the doorknob when he couldn't stand holding his gaze any longer.

"Right, sorry," Blaine laughed and pushed the door open. He stepped aside to let Kurt through, "Bienvenue chez moi."

"Merci," Kurt gazed around the little space, "I never realized you had a single room."

Blaine closed the door behind him and looked around, too, "Gets a little lonely, but it gives some privacy."

"Lonely? You live in a building with all of your friends, Blaine." Kurt moved toward Blaine's desk to look at the pictures tacked to the corkboard behind it.

"I'm a social person," Blaine prodded Kurt in the side as he passed him, "and besides, you don't live here, so I don't live with all of my friends, right?"

Kurt blushed and he wasn't entirely sure why. His eyes drifted toward the closet, "From here I'm seeing a lot of navy and cardinal red, Blaine."

Blaine had draped his jacket across the back of a chair and was working at loosening the knot in his tie, "Hasty judgments, Mr. Hummel. You have my blessings to go pick through every single thing in there."

"Fine," Kurt went to the closet and pushed slowly through the hangers. He inspected each item he found carefully, "…Not too shabby; I'm impressed. You could do some great combinations with some of this stuff."

Blaine sat down on his bed and leaned back against the wall. He smiled at Kurt's back, "Feel free to create an outfit rotation for me."

Kurt looked over his shoulder with a smile, "I knew there was a reason I liked you."

Blaine raised an eyebrow, "Never mind my mind blowing charisma and stage presence."

"And humbleness." Kurt muttered. He pulled out a red cardigan and slid it over a houndstooth patterned polo and replaced the set in the closet before moving on to finding a pairing for a beige quarter zip sweater he actually kind of really wished he could borrow, "…where are your shoes?"

"My shoes?"

Kurt nodded without turning to look at Blaine, "You can't just put together a perfect outfit without matching your shoes, Blaine."

"Right corner on the floor in there," Blaine smiled at Kurt's back, "You really like this kind of stuff, don't you?"

"What gave me away?" Kurt rolled his eyes as he crouched down to peer at a stack of shoeboxes. No less than seven Sperry Topsider boxes stared back at him.

"You think you'll do something with it when you go to school?" Blaine stretched out across the mattress and tucked a hand behind his head.

Kurt sat up to face Blaine, "Hopefully… that or Broadway."

Blaine hummed in acknowledgement; his eyes trained on the ceiling.

Kurt opened the first shoebox and pulled out the shoe inside to inspect, "What about you? Any plans for a platinum album and co-produced songs with Ms. Perry?"

Blaine chuckled, "Maybe as a side project."

Kurt dropped the shoe back down into the box and replaced it with the rest, "What do you want to do then? Where do you want to be?"

"I'm not really sure," Blaine's eyes drifted over the expanse of the ceiling, "My parents are split in their thoughts on the whole thing. My mom likes Pennsylvania and business and my dad likes Columbia and law."

"What do you like?" Kurt pushed himself up off the floor and sat down at the end of the bed.

"Dunno… I can't really see myself as a lawyer, but I think I'd like Columbia…maybe I can compromise with a business major at Columbia… or business law at Columbia to mollify my dad a little more…"

Kurt shook his head, "No, I mean, if you could do anything at all, what would you want do?"

Blaine pushed himself up until his weight was resting on his elbows behind him; he blinked at Kurt, "I'm not sure… I guess I've never really thought about it."

"Sure you have," Kurt folded his legs underneath himself and twisted to face Blaine, "Everyone thinks about that kind of stuff. What'd you want to do when you were seven?"

Blaine laughed, "I wanted to be a Pokémon trainer."

Kurt giggled, "Okay, lets try a different technique. I'll ask you questions and you say the first answer that pops into your head."

Blaine tilted his head thoughtfully, "Yeah, okay, why not?"

"Remember, just say whatever pops into your head. Don't think about it," Kurt sat up straighter, "Favorite color."

"Blue."

"Favorite actor."

"Brad Pitt."

Kurt rolled his eyes, "Favorite musical."

"Spring Awakening."

"Ser—" Kurt shook his head, "Favorite class."

"Lit."

"Where do you live?"

"Westerville."

"Where did you just go?"

"The mall."

"What'd you buy at the mall?"

"A scarf for you."

"What'd you eat for dinner?"

"Pizza."

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"An actor. Oh!" Blaine looked startled.

Kurt gave him a self-satisfied smirk when he met Blaine's eyes, "Told you."

Blaine sat up all the way. He shook his head and laughed as though he couldn't quite fathom his own words, "Well."

"Stage or cinema?" Kurt teased.

Blaine shook his head again, still smiling, "I can't be an actor—it goes on the same list as Pokémon trainer."

"Why?" Kurt pouted, "I'm sure you'd be wonderful."

"Things just aren't always that simple, Kurt," Blaine nudged Kurt's knee with his, "Maybe I'll come watch your shows, though."

"Why should I be able to do it and you can't?" Kurt pressed.

Blaine rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, "…if your dad were to not be supportive of your career choice, would you still be doing it?"

"Yes." Kurt answered without hesitation, but the look on Blaine's face made him wish he had at least paused. This was not the confident, smooth Blaine he was used to. The Blaine in front of him looked confused; envious…young.

Blaine held his gaze for a second longer and then looked down toward the bedspread, "Well then, I once again applaud your strength."

John let out a long sigh as he dropped his cell phone back down on his desk and massaged his fingers over his temples. The quiet notes of the piano drifted in through his half-open door. He glanced at his watch—still twenty minutes until his next conference call…he was debating pushing out his chair and wandering out of the office to go check on Blaine when the doorbell rang. The sound of the piano continued, so John deviated from his path to the family room to go to the front door. He pulled it open, fully expecting Trip or Kurt or one of the Warblers popping in to say hello yet again, but was instead greeted by a face he'd never seen. Even stranger, it was a girl.

She didn't miss a beat, she stuck out the hand that wasn't occupied by an oversized bag and smiled, "Hello, you must be Mr. Anderson. I'm Rachel Berry. I'm sure you've heard of me, but it's a pleasure to finally meet you in person. Is Blaine home?"

John blinked in surprise and shook her hand on autopilot, "Yes… yes, Blaine's mentioned you. Come in; he's in the family room."

Rachel tilted her head to listen to the notes still flowing through the house before moving toward the source, John trailing behind her.

His head was bent low; his shoulders relaxed as his fingers drifted over the keys. Much to his surprise, John recognized the notes, but before he could say anything, the song was over and Rachel was applauding.

Blaine twisted around on the bench at the sound, and his face immediately lit up with a smile, "Rachel!"

Rachel dropped her bag down onto the floor and practically ran across the room as Blaine pushed himself to his feet. He caught her in a tight hug and they spun around together; laughing happily.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek before pushing herself out of the embrace just far enough to look him over, "Almost two months without seeing you is absolutely intolerable."

"We've Skyped." Blaine smiled a little; rubbed his hands up and down her sides.

"It's not the same," Rachel pouted, "And Kurt comes home and he smells like you, and I get insanely jealous."

"That's creepy." Blaine frowned.

"It is not," Rachel wrapped her arms back around him again, "If you could hug yourself you'd understand, too. Nothing quite compares to hugs from Blaine Anderson."

Blaine laughed into her hair.

Rachel pulled out of the hug again to pout at him, "Aren't you going to tell me there's nothing like hugs from Rachel Berry?"

Blaine smiled, "I thought that went without saying."

"Finn needs to take lessons on charm from you," Rachel's eyes drifted up to the top of Blaine's head, "Your hair is still coming in nicely."

Blaine touched a hand to the top of his head as though to check for himself, "It's not really growing, but it's not falling out all that much either apart from a few places, so I won't complain."

Rachel hummed approvingly before finally pulling fully out of Blaine's arms to retrieve her bag.

John had watched the entire exchange, mesmerized into silence. Blaine met his eyes and motioned a hand to Rachel, "Dad, you met Rachel I take it?"

John shook his head to refocus, but then realized he looked like he was saying no. He cleared his throat, "Yes, I met her at the door."

"Sorry, I didn't even hear the doorbell. You didn't get interrupted from work, did you?"

"No, no; I'm between conference calls," John nodded toward the piano, "Sounded nice."

Blaine nodded his gratitude for the compliment.

"You played that at a piano recital when you were…" John mentally counted the years, "Ten."

"Nine." Blaine corrected. His eyes were on his right hand that had already resumed its usual motion.

John followed his gaze, "It's staying steady when you play."

"The faster the song and the more I've played it, the better… I never thought I'd be grateful for you and Mom making me practice so much as a kid." Blaine looked up from his hand to smile at his father.

"We had excellent foresight." John returned the smile. He wondered absently if the compliment was to make up for when Blaine had shouted at him in the kitchen that morning for asking about his medications.

Blaine sank down to the floor and leaned his back into the couch. He pulled the binder Rachel had dropped down onto the carpet into his lap and flipped through the pages carefully. He glanced up at Rachel, "Did you print the course list?"

An anxious frown touched the corners of Rachel's mouth, but she masked it quickly, "Yes, they're in the back folder—if you have a three hole punch, you can put them in."

Blaine searched her face quietly, "…did I already ask you about that?"

Rachel bit her lip and smoother an invisible wrinkle in her dress, "Well, only in passing really on the phone; it was a couple hours ago and then I started talking about Finn and Ohio State and—"

Blaine covered one of her hands with his, "It's okay. You don't have to make excuses for me; I just blank on short term things sometimes."

Rachel put her other hand over Blaine's and smiled, "Finn does it all the time, and he doesn't even have an excuse, but don't tell him I said that."

"Kurt says that, too," Blaine pulled his hand out from between Rachel's and slid his arm around her shoulders, "Here. Show me what I'm allowed to touch in this thing."

John watched them quietly—his son with an arm around a girl and her head tipped down against his shoulder. It was the image of how he had thought things were supposed to be; the picture perfect set up of what John had always imagined would be Blaine with a girlfriend.

Then again, no… this picture wasn't right either. Blaine's shaky hand; the patchy spot in his short hair... and there was something about the look of Rachel's tiny frame curled neatly into Blaine's somehow didn't look as right as it should, like maybe someone else belonged there… John cleared his throat again, "What are you two working on?"

"A surprise for Kurt," Blaine beamed down at the binder, "We're going to shove him out of the Lima nest."

There was something about the sentiment that softened something in John's heart. This girl—this girl who kissed Blaine's cheek and held his hand between both of hers—supported his relationship with another boy. Blaine had good friends; Blaine had a good boyfriend. There was a strange comfort in it, "How are you going to do that?"

"A lot of Google searches and some clamoring to get him a decent job." Blaine sighed.

Rachel looked up at John woefully, "Do you have any idea how limited the options are in Ohio for fostering the blossoming of a creative soul?"

John frowned, "There are a lot of job opportunities out there despite the recession—clerical work, restaurants, retail…didn't you say he's been working for his father this summer, Blaine?"

Blaine shook his head, "He can't work there for an entire year, and he can't just slave away as a waiter somewhere… He needs an outlet."

"An outlet?" John echoed.

Blaine nodded, his eyes still on the pages in front of him, "He needs to be challenged and he needs something to make him happy if he's going to be stuck here."

Rachel smiled at Blaine, "He has someone to make him happy, but he does need something novel in his life. Something…. Fresh; creative."

"But everything needs either a degree or some sort of special training." Blaine sighed.

John glanced down at the binder and caught a glimpse of a familiar logo, "I see you have the Anthropologie internship in there; that would be a good thing for him it sounds like."

Blaine looked mournfully at the page, "It would be perfect for him, but they want design majors… we stuck it in there anyway in hopes that he could maybe at least work his way into something similar."

John hesitated for a moment, "… they're one of our main clients, you know."

Blaine nodded absently, "It's what made me think of it in the first place—you mentioned a meeting with some of their people last week at dinner."

"Good memory," Rachel smiled affectionately.

"Can I have a gold star sticker for my accomplishment?"

Rachel actually whipped out a sheet of shiny gold stickers from her bag and pressed one to Blaine's shirt. John would have smiled over the exchange—or maybe gaped at the strangeness of a girl who carried around a sheet of star stickers—but he was deep in thought, "… someone in their HR owes me a favor…I could talk to him and I'm sure he wouldn't mind pulling a few strings."

Blaine's smile disappeared as he looked up at his father in surprise, "You…you'd do that for me? ...For him?"

John nodded, "I don't see why not."

"Thanks, dad, that… it would mean a lot to me." The smile that bloomed over Blaine's face made John's heart ache—he wasn't sure if the hurt was out of guilt or out of pleasure for having created such a happy expression.

John nodded; cleared his throat, "I should get back to my office and get ready for that conference call. I'll call Jim afterwards and see what he can do."

Blaine was still looking at him with misty eyes and a half-smile, "We're going to head out as soon as we finish this—lunch date with Kurt, Quinn, and Finn."

"It's sort of like an intervention." Rachel added happily.

"An intervention to prevent potential future interventions when he loses his mind from being in Lima when even Puck is getting out," Blaine snorted.

John nodded, but then hesitated in the doorway, "If you feel like you need an, um, outlet, Blaine, you could always come work for me—we need someone to do some file work and the like. You could shadow at some meetings, too."

"I thought you wanted me to do law." Blaine scratched carefully at the side of his head.

"Nothing wrong with business—I work in business, don't I?" John smiled as he made his way out of the room.

"Yeah, I guess so… I'll think about it. Thanks again, Dad."

"Finally!" Finn sighed in relief when Rachel and Blaine approached their booth at the restaurant.

"We agreed on a halfway point to meet you guys, and you're still twenty minutes late." Quinn added, not glancing up from his menu.

"We had things to finish up." Rachel slid into the booth after Blaine and shared a conspiratorial smile with him.

Kurt handed his menu off to Blaine, "What kinds of things?"

"Important things," Rachel looked around at the others with the same knowing smirk she'd shared with Blaine.

Kurt rolled his eyes, "I'm sure."

An elderly waitress approached them; pen and paper already in hand, "Is this the rest of your party?"

"Yes, can we please, please, please order now?" Finn looked around at them all desperately.

"Finn, Rachel and Blaine haven't even opened the menu yet. You'll live another five minutes." Quinn glared hard at Finn.

"There's only one vegan option here, I don't need time to think about it," Rachel pushed her menu toward the waitress.

Finn caught Kurt's death glare and managed to mumble, "Blaine? Do you need a minute?"

"No, go ahead," Blaine didn't look up from his menu, "You start and I'll go last."

They made their way quickly around the table, the waitress nodding down at her pad of paper. She looked up when she reached Blaine, "What about you, honey, do you know what you want?"

"Umm…" Blaine scanned over the menu again.

"Their chili is awesome, man; like, better than my mom's." Finn prompted.

Blaine smiled up at the waitress as he handed over the menu, "I'll trust Finn's judgment."

The waitress' eyes lingered on Blaine's face, "Can I get you anything else? Soda? Water?"

"Water would be great, thank you."

"I'll go put your orders in, and I'll be right back out with that water, dear," The waitress offered Blaine one more smile before disappearing into the kitchen.

"Blaine's always the favorite. I bet she'll give him his water for free." Finn grumbled.

"Water's always free, idiot," Kurt rolled his eyes before nudging Blaine's foot under the table, "And of course he's the favorite."

"Only second to you," Blaine winked.

The waitress returned with water for Blaine and after asking yet again if he or any of the others needed anything else, she disappeared again.

Rachel spread her napkin across her lap and smoothed it down happily, "Isn't it nice we could get together before the fall?"

"We still have plans in the works for a goodbye dinner with all of our friends," Kurt covered his mouth to stifle a yawn.

"Yes, but I think this group is special," Rachel pushed, "Quinn and I are off on our great New York adventure—"

"Do you really need to rub it in?" Kurt smiled good-naturedly.

"You have a big year in front of you, too. We're all done with high school; there are all kinds of things in store for us. All of us." Rachel smiled around at the others yet again, "Actually, that's the reason we invited you to lunch today. There are some things we want to talk about with you."

Kurt narrowed his eyes at them, "This feels like some sort of bizarre intervention. What's going on?"

Blaine nodded at Rachel, "You tell. I'll screw it up."

"Well, Quinn mentioned something to me—an idea of sorts—that I thought was wonderfully inspired, so when Blaine and I had our much needed phone time together a couple weeks ago, we got to talking about it, too," Rachel was practically bursting with self-satisfaction, "And then I talked to Finn about it, and we all came to the same conclusion."

Kurt looked at her in irritated confusion, "What is 'it'? What conclusion?"

Rachel folded her hands on the table and beamed, "We decided you can't work at your dad's tire shop."

"And you can't just stay home for a year." Finn added.

Rachel nodded, "So we started doing some research."

Kurt looked down when Rachel slid a pink three-ringed binder across the tabletop. He raised a disdainful eyebrow when he inspected the front cover—a painfully decorated thing with gold star stickers and print written in, what smelled like, cherry-scented marker, "'Kurt Hummel's Grand Year in Columbus'?"

Blaine made a face at Rachel, "That wasn't the title we agreed on."

Rachel frowned at Blaine before lighting up with another smile when she met Kurt's eyes, "Despite our differences in opinion on creative decisions, Blaine and I did agree that we needed to help open your eyes to opportunities you have right here in Ohio until you two join Quinn and me in New York."

Kurt eyed her cynically, "What?"

Blaine motioned a hand at the binder, "Just look."

Kurt opened the front cover and paged slowly through the papers inside, his brow furrowing more and more until he mentally kicked himself for potentially causing premature wrinkles. He relaxed his face as he looked back up at the others, "These are job applications and classes at Ohio State…"

Blaine bobbed his head up and down, "Options."

"Ideas." Rachel agreed.

Kurt blinked, "These are all in Columbus; that's a long drive."

This time it was Finn who looked pleased with himself; he sat up straighter and grinned, "I've been talking to our parents about maybe helping you out paying for an apartment in the city, and they think they can swing the cost if you get a roommate or something."

Kurt looked between them all, feeling strangely light headed, "I'm not enrolled at the university…"

Finn nodded again, "I e-mailed my counselor and she said you could probably get in as a part time student if you send in your application stuff because of, um…"

"Extenuating circumstances." Blaine supplied.

Rachel beamed at him, "Excellent word finding."

"Don't patronize." Blaine scowled at her.

"Another good word." Rachel patted his hand.

"Rachel that's not how it—" Blaine cut himself off and shook his head before turning his attention back to Kurt, "Well, what do you think?"

Kurt blinked at him.

Blaine leaned across the table and flipped to a page in the binder. He pointed down at the text, "They have fashion design classes, see? You could add it to your resume for when you reapply in New York…and look at this—"

Kurt watched Blaine's fingers fumble with another few sheets before he was pointing again, "You can get an internship doing the displays for Anthropologie… I know it's not fashion, but you're creative, and it's sort of like that, right?"

Kurt blinked at the paper before slowly flipping through the pages again. Job options; class lists; an application for Ohio State; a list of apartment potentials. He looked back up at the others in a daze, "…You did all this without telling me?"

Blaine's expression went from anxious to crushed, "I'm sorry, we weren't trying to go behind your back, we just—"

Blaine let out a frustrated sigh and looked to Rachel for help, "It's actually lost this time."

She covered his hands with one of hers and gave him a reassuring smile before looking back at Kurt, "We want to see you happy."

Quinn had remained silent through the entire conversation; her arms folded loosely across her chest and her eyes watching Kurt carefully. When she spoke, her voice was soft, "You shine too bright to just stay in Lima, Kurt."

Kurt shook his head; tried to swallow down the tears he could feel forming in his eyes, "I—I wasn't angry you did it, I just had no idea— thank you. For doing all this, you really didn't have—"

Blaine smiled; reached across the table again to squeeze one of Kurt's hands in his, "You deserve taking care of, too, you know."

The waitress returned; a tray filled with plates balanced precariously on her arm.

Kurt pushed the binder down onto his lap to make room on the table and conversation drifted to plans for a larger scale lunch with all of their friends before people left for school or work in the fall.

` "Maybe you'll have picked one of our amazing life options from the binder by then." Rachel motioned a hand toward the edge of the binder peaking out from Kurt's knees.

Kurt took a bite of his salad and chewed thoughtfully before speaking, "I think I like the Anthropologie idea… remember when we watched them make the Christmas display a couple years ago, Blaine?"

Blaine was spitting something into his napkin, but he nodded.

"Something wrong with your food, sweetheart?" The waitress paused at their table as she passed again; an anxious frown on her face as she stared at Blaine.

"No, everything's fine," Blaine blushed and waved her concern away before adding, "But thank you."

"Are you sure?" Her eyes flickered from his hat to his fork and then back to his eyes.

He nodded wordlessly.

"All right, well if you change your mind, just let me know. It wouldn't be a problem to make you something different…"

"Thank you." Blaine offered her a strained smile until she finally turned to walk away.

An awkward lull fell over the table.

Blaine glanced around at them, his eyes lingering longer on Kurt, before offering an awkward smile, "Everything tastes like hairspray."

Quinn cringed, "That's awful."

Finn looked down at his own plate thoughtfully. He picked up the dinner roll and held it out toward Blaine, "My mom says plain stuff is good for when you're stomach's weird. Maybe it's the same for bad tastes."

"Finn you really don't have to—"

"If you don't take it, I'm going to call the waitress over here and let her get the kitchen to make you your own bread from scratch." Finn cut him off smoothly.

"Thank you," Blaine laughed quietly before taking the offered bread. He glanced at the waitress as she once again passed their table, "I came in here once after a doctor's appointment with my parents. My mom started crying in the middle of the meal and we had that same waitress; I think she remembers me."

Kurt glanced over his shoulder at the waitress before looking back at Blaine, "Why was your mom crying after a doctor's appointment?"

Blaine sighed, "It was my first one after getting out of the hospital. She got emotional, I guess, I don't know."

"My dads are already crying about me leaving and I don't go for another twenty two days and—" Rachel glanced at the clock on the wall, "Three hours."

Quinn looked incredulous, "We have a set hour?"

"Of course we do," Rachel launched into an explanation on timing and the length of the drive and something about destiny, but Kurt wasn't listening. His eyes were focused on Blaine tearing apart the dinner roll into small and smaller pieces.

Quinn glanced at Kurt and followed his gaze to Blaine before smoothly cutting Rachel off, "Rachel, switch seats with Kurt."

"What, Quinn, I—"

"You're going to give Blaine a headache and no one else can hold a conversation when you're shouting across the table. Trade places with Kurt."

Rachel let out a exasperated sigh before getting up and stalking around Finn's chair to take the seat in the booth beside Quinn. The second she was seated, she was talking again.

Kurt slipped into the seat beside Blaine and switched his and Rachel's plates before whispering in Blaine's ear, "If they kill each other in the city, I'm going to feel a little bit responsible since I set this whole thing up."

Blaine smiled over at the girls, "They'll do fine. They're more similar than they know."

Kurt glanced at the bread growing smaller and smaller in Blaine's hands; he squeezed his knee gently underneath the table, "How's the bread going?"

Blaine shrugged and motioned at the binder still on Kurt's lap, "You like it? You're really not mad?"

"Try a bite of food and then I'll think about answering you." Kurt gave Blaine a pointed look.

Blaine rolled his eyes but stuck a piece of the shredded bread into his mouth. He motioned an expectant hand at Kurt while he chewed.

Kurt nodded his approval, "To answer the previous questions: I love it and of course I'm not angry; why would I be angry?"

Blaine swallowed down the piece of bread and stirred his straw in his glass of water idly, "You like to be in control of things. You've always lived by the plans you created by yourself…. I didn't know how you'd feel about us giving you options for how to run your life."

"Technically I don't have to do any of it," Kurt smiled a little, "…I'll admit, I would have never thought of this on my own."

Blaine smiled hopefully, "So you're actually going to think about some of it?"

Kurt squeezed Blaine's knee a little tighter, "Of course I will. We're not exactly ones for living for the expected anymore, are we?"

"Guess not," Blaine slid in just a little closer to Kurt's side until their legs were flush with one another—the warmth of his skin mixing with Kurt's.

Kurt took another bite of his salad; he glanced over at Rachel and Quinn who had quieted to a more normal conversational volume before looking back at Blaine, "What about you?"

"What about me?" Blaine flexed his fingers experimentally on his lap.

"What're you going to do?"

Blaine shrugged, "Visit you; babysit Trip; play Fur Elise on the piano until my parents threaten to stop paying for chemo if I don't stop."

"Blaine, that's a horrible thing to say," Kurt laughed despite himself, "I mean it though; do you have plans?"

Blaine dropped the remaining bit of bread down onto his plate, "I don't know… my dad offered for me to come work at his office—file stuff and deliver letters and that sort of thing. I could put it on a resume or something when I reapply for school."

Kurt frowned, "That doesn't sound very exciting."

"Yeah, well, taking gen eds and Accounting 101 at NYU wouldn't have held much of a thrill either," Blaine shook his head when Kurt offered him a bite of his salad, "It's not like I'm making a huge trade off."

Kurt traced a finger around the raised outline of a sticker on the binder, "… maybe you could try some acting classes."

Blaine laughed, "Acting classes? Why would I do that?"

"Because it's something you love," Kurt prodded a spinach leaf with his fork, "and I thought maybe, since we're being people who don't adhere to plans, you might want to rethink your major when we go to the city."

"My dad's not going to pay for me to be a theater major, Kurt, I have wiggle room to switch, but not that much," Blaine lifted a hand and listed on his fingers, "Accounting, business law, finance, pre-law or…. There's one more, but acting wasn't it."

"He's been coming around a lot more though, hasn't he? You said he's been trying harder," Kurt insisted, "Maybe if you talked to him—"

Blaine's fist coming down hard on the table startled everyone into silence, "It's not going to happen, Kurt."

Kurt met Rachel's eyes briefly before speaking, his voice quiet, "Okay, I didn't mean to push it, just… it's an option, right?"

Blaine looked tired, "I guess."

"Girls, what weekend were you thinking Puck and I could come out to visit?" Finn spoke quickly and Kurt was fairly sure they'd never made plans for a weekend trip, but he was grateful for the attempt to take his and Blaine's conversation off of center stage.

"Even if you just took a workshop through the theater or something," Kurt put his fork down on the plate; no longer hungry, "It might be nice."

"I don't think my memory's much good for it anyway, Kurt. Chemo makes me…" Blaine motioned a hand beside his head, "… fuzzy. It's just not in the cards for me right now… why are you suddenly so set on this, anyway?"

"You're the one making me entire binders of ideas for what to do with myself this year, aren't you?" Kurt waved the binder in the air as proof, "Why can't I throw an idea out there for you?"

"I'm not saying you can't, but we've known for a long time what sort of career path I was headed down," Blaine's fingers skimmed the side of Kurt's hand, "What's with the sudden push for this stuff again?"

"This stuff is what makes you light up, Blaine. Anyone who's ever seen you perform can see that," Kurt's gaze moved down to the cherry red curve of an 'm' on the binder cover, "…I just want to know you're happy."

Blaine slid his fingers more fully around Kurt's hand, "Hey, look at me."

Kurt's eyes drifted up to meet Blaine's.

Blaine smiled; squeezed his hand tighter, "I am happy, okay? Ridiculously, head over heels happy."

"You're not that happy." Kurt wrinkled his nose.

"Not all day or even every day," Blaine kissed the worry line in Kurt's forehead, "But a lot of the time, I truly am."

Kurt leaned into Blaine's arm and pushed the binder open to scan through the pages yet again, "Good. Lets keep it that way."

Blaine watched Kurt read through the papers and tried to read his facial expression; all the while questions stirred and grew inside his head, "Are you happy, Kurt? Do I make you happy?"

The question burned so hot in his mind, he was a little surprised when it didn't come pouring out when he thanked the waitress as he handed off the shiny plastic AmEx card and asked her to charge both his and Kurt's meal to his card.

"Always the gentleman," Kurt sighed; kissed Blaine's cheek, "What would I do without you?"

And all at once Blaine knew why he could keep that stupid question from slipping out. He doesn't want to know. He can't bear to know.

There wasn't an answer Kurt could give that wouldn't break Blaine's heart.