Kurt turned to face Leroy, slightly out of breath.

“I just wanted to make sure you guys don’t have to do anything; I don’t want to put you out-”

Leroy put a steady hand on Kurt’s shoulder.

“You couldn’t put us out if you tried. You know we’ll take any chance we can get to babysit.” He turned to Hiram, who was busy cooing over Eliza and kissing her cheek. “Isn’t that right?”

“What?” He’d barely been paying attention to anything but his granddaughter since he arrived. He pulled the adults back into focus. “Oh, of course, we’re happy to help. What’s so urgent, anyway? I thought you didn’t even finish work for another hour.”

Kurt smiled to himself.

“I took the afternoon off. It’s kind of a special occasion.”

Leroy’s face lit up. He was glad Kurt was making time for himself; he wanted him to be happy, and it helped that they got to look after the baby.

“Oh, really? Got a hot date?”

“No!” Kurt snapped too quickly. “I mean, just going out for the evening. I thought we both needed a night off.”

Leroy tilted his head and Hiram’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“We? So you’re going out with Blaine?”

Leroy put a hand on Hiram’s forearm.

“Honey, if Blaine wasn’t going out too don’t you think he’d be the one staying with Lizzie?”

Hiram tried not to show his surprise, but he was clearly taken aback.

“Right, right, I just… I thought maybe he was busy with friends. I didn’t realise you two were-”

Kurt shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

“We’re not- we’re friends. It’d be weird if we weren’t friends; we live together. If I trust him enough to look after Lizzie, doesn’t it make sense that we get along? I just thought we could do something together that didn’t revolve around the baby; that doesn’t mean we’re going out. We’re just… going out.”

His arguments were a little too hurried and a lot too practised. He’d made them in his mind a hundred times, trying to convince himself that he didn’t need to feel bad about liking Blaine, that he was just a friend. He loved things the way they were now, and if anything went wrong it would be awkward to say the least.

Leroy suppressed a smirk.

“Well, Kurt, that makes you just about the nicest boss ever. Where is he anyway?”

“He’s out. I actually made sure he’d be out getting groceries when you guys got here.”

“And why was that?”

Kurt blushed.

“I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Leroy couldn’t help grinning.

“Uh-huh. Well, we’ve all arranged special surprise nights out for friends at one point or other, haven’t we?”

Hiram didn’t say anything. He forced a smile before focusing on the baby again. Kurt frowned. He felt an urge to defend himself, to tell Hiram that even though of course it wasn’t like that, he could date who he wanted and that it was none of his business, but he knew that would make everything worse. The last thing he wanted now was to get into a bad mood. He smiled politely and changed subject.

“Anyway, you’ve got my number and Blaine’s is on the fridge if you can’t get hold of me, which is very unlikely.” He held Eliza’s hand absent-mindedly, enveloping it inside his. “Would you mind feeding her while I finish getting ready?”

Leroy gave him a nudge.

“You already look fine to me, but if you want to go to any more effort, be our guest.”

Kurt huffed out a breath and rolled his eyes, simultaneously trying to reciprocate Leroy’s light tone, make it clear that nothing was going on, and show Hiram that even if it was, he had no say in it. Light-hearted defiance was not an easy emotion to capture.

“I’ll only be a second.”

He took a couple of deep breaths in front of the mirror, still trying to perfect his hair even though he’d been ready for an hour. He tried to ignore the hushed voices downstairs. He’d known they’d be weird about this – Hiram more than Leroy – but he ignored it. Tonight wasn’t about them. It was about Blaine.

He rushed downstairs as soon as he heard a key in the door. He opened it, knowing Blaine would be weighed down with bags (he always bought more than he could carry) and greeted him with a bright smile and a higher-pitched than normal ‘Hey!’

Blaine froze in the doorway. He swallowed as he took Kurt in – violet shirt with rolled-up sleeves, black form-fitting trousers and waistcoat, looking effortlessly chic although Blaine suspected he’d selected his outfit carefully – and almost dropped the bags on the floor. He opened his mouth and nothing but ‘oh’ fell out. Kurt grinned.

“Do you need me to take a couple of those?”

“Huh, um,” he coughed, “yeah. Yeah, thanks, I- are you- you look, uh-”

“Thanks,” Kurt lifted two bags from the pile in Blaine’s arms and headed to the kitchen. “You remember Hiram and Leroy?”

The two men in the kitchen looked tense. They’d obviously been in a deep discussion of the Kurt and Blaine situation, and it looked like Leroy had won. He was determined to stay cheerful, smiling as he bounced the baby in his arms. Hiram’s arms were folded and didn’t move to shake Blaine’s hand. Despite the heavy paper bags restricting his movement, Blaine wiggled his fingers in an awkward attempt at a wave. Leroy took Eliza’s hand in his and made her wave hello to him, while Hiram offered a solemn nod.

“Blaine.”

There were a thousand niggling thoughts flitting through Kurt’s mind – how dare Hiram be so rude, thank God for Leroy being such a sweetheart, what if he was doing something to drive a wedge between them, hadn’t they already lost enough… but they fizzled out of his brain when Blaine finally put the bags down on the counter and turned around to face Kurt, having to swallow again when he noticed the clear flex of his bicep through his shirt.

“So, are you here for dinner? Kurt didn’t mention-”

“They’re babysitting.”

Blaine frowned. His brain was still whirring from the sight of Kurt dressed… like that. He always looked good, but now he was in a different mode. This wasn’t just him being naturally stylish. He was out to impress. He’s got a date. He must have a date.

“Are you going out?”

Kurt held in a laugh.

“Yes. And so are you.”

Blaine’s eyes grew wider.

“What? Where to? Who with? Oh God, I need to change. I don’t have anything-” I don’t have anything good enough. I’m not fit to be introduced to your world. I’ve tried.

“Woah, Blaine; it’s fine.” Kurt reached out about to stroke his arm and reassure him, but he pulled away at the last second. It felt weird touching him in front of Hiram and Leroy, although he really just wanted to pull him into a hug and stop him looking so scared. “It’s a surprise, and I’m sure you’ll look great. Just pick something comfortable – smart casual.”

He didn’t move for a few seconds, still trying to process the fact that Kurt wasn’t working from home this evening, that he couldn’t just curl up on the sofa across from him and watch a movie or read a book, that he was about to be surrounded by people more interesting than him and a whole world he didn’t know about, but something about the way Kurt was smiling at him made it seem less scary. Kurt knew him, probably better than he let on, and he wouldn’t make him do anything he wouldn’t like. He quickly squashed the idea that maybe Kurt had dressed up for his benefit; still, he had to look good if he was going to be in public next to that. He mumbled out a ‘right, okay, hold on’ before rushing up the stairs, smiling at Eliza then Kurt on his way out.

Kurt turned back to Hiram and Leroy, who were staring at him silently. Leroy was resisting a temptation to probe him for details, getting the idea that Hiram was ready to start trouble.

“He looks terrified. Has he been outside before?”

Kurt looked back to the doorway Blaine has just run through then lifted the baby out of Leroy’s arms, kissing her on the cheek.

“You just saw him come back from the store.”

“But he-”

Leroy cut Hiram off.

“I think he’s probably just surprised. I don’t think he was expecting to come home to… well, this,” he nodded at Kurt. “Poor kid didn’t stand a chance.”

“Shut up- I mean, thanks. But he’s just kind of… I don’t really know. He just needs a boost. I kind of owe it to him.” I owe him a lot, actually. I owe him everything.

They stuck to small talk as they waited for Blaine, scared to rock the boat. Kurt told them how he was getting treated like a slave at work and it was wearing him down, but at least he had Eliza to come home to – Leroy bit his tongue to stop himself from pointing out that she wasn’t all he was coming home to – and they talked about the joys and pitfalls of retirement (“we’re finally free to have fun, but we’re too old to do anything; c’est la vie!”). They asked after Burt and Carole, even Finn, and Kurt’s answers were thin and meandering as he got more and more jumpy in anticipation. Leroy squeezed Hiram’s knee, don’t say anything, and they both kept talking even though Kurt had pretty much checked out of the conversation.

Eventually Blaine reappeared, wearing a light grey suit with a white shirt; light enough to keep cool, smart enough to fit in wherever they were going. He considered a tie but thought better of it, as he was already having trouble controlling his breathing. The jacket defined his shoulders and hugged his waist (and the pants may have slightly accentuated his ass, completely by accident, of course). He looked sheepish as he edged into the living room. It would have been so much easier if it had just been him and Kurt, but he figured it would be soon enough - until they got to wherever they were going, some expensive bar full of theatre people, where he’d be out of his depth. He resigned himself to the fact that most of this evening could easily be a nightmare, but at least he’d have some time with Kurt.

Kurt jumped to his feet as soon as he saw Blaine, eyes darting to the roll of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed again at the sight of Kurt. They paused, standing and staring at each other until they simultaneously remembered that they weren’t alone, and Kurt babbled a quick goodbye at Hiram and Leroy, bobbed down to kiss Eliza’s temple, and grabbed a jacket as he ushered Blaine outside.

Getting outside was a relief. It was still light and the warm city air was punctuated by a smooth summer breeze. A taxi was just pulling up to the curb. Kurt took a deep breath in through his nose and looked at Blaine.

“Come on; we’re going to be late.”

Before Blaine could apologise for the delay or ask where they were going, Kurt had placed a hand on the small of his back, casually ushering him toward the car. He decided not to argue; he realised he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in a cab, and he let himself enjoy it, as long as Kurt was paying. He risked a glance at him, eyebrows raised, hoping for some answers.

“First of all, you don’t need to worry. I’m not going to force you to put up with a bunch of theatre people. There’s a reason you haven’t met them; they’re all pretty much insufferable outside of work. A lot of them are worse inside it. You’ll see them, but talking will be discouraged. Frowned upon, even.”

Something lit up in Blaine’s eyes as it clicked into place.

“No way.”

“What way?”

“You’re taking me to the show?”

Kurt groaned. He’d never been good at keeping secrets.

“Don’t get too excited; I get free tickets. To be honest, they’ll give most people free tickets at this point. It doesn’t look like it’s going to have a long run-”

Blaine ignored his self-deprecation.

“You’re taking me to see your work? I get to see those costumes for real, sitting next to the guy who made them?”

Kurt was almost dumbfounded by Blaine’s admiration.

“Well… yeah, I guess. Yes.”

Blaine wound the window down, and for a second Kurt thought he was going to stick his head outside, letting his tongue flop out of his mouth into the breeze. He was almost disappointed when he didn’t. He leaned into the flow of air, taking a deep breath, before turning back to Kurt.

“You sound surprised. I thought that was supposed to be me.”

Kurt tried to piece a proper sentence together.

“Well, I just- nobody really- everyone’s usually excited to see the girl, she’s supposed to be the next big- I-”

Blaine grinned.

“Nah, I’ve always found the behind the scenes stuff more interesting. Performers kinda piss me off-”

His jaw dropped. He wanted to punch himself in the face. He started shaking his head.

“Oh, Kurt, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-”

Kurt laughed, looking down at his hands in his lap.

“It’s fine, Blaine; I know you didn’t mean her, but if you did you wouldn’t be the first. She pissed everyone off. She could piss me off like nobody else, but somehow it worked for us. We kept each other on our toes. Her dads try to act like she was this perfect angel, and I understand why, but I think that’s worse. I’d rather be honest about her; I know she’d do the same for me. There was so much about her that I adored, really: she was loyal and funny and so determined, so fierce that nothing could stop her, but… God, she could be grating. Come on, she had to resort to having a baby with me. Nobody else could put up with her.”

Blaine considered putting a hand on his arm, his leg, somewhere, but couldn’t quite find the courage. He ducked his head slightly to catch Kurt’s eye.

“I’m sure there were other reasons, Kurt.”

Kurt looked at him and smiled. He exhaled, something between a sigh and a laugh, then turned to look out of the window.

“It’s so beautiful like this; when the shadows are longer and there are streaks of gold everywhere. Even though you can’t see every single thing from in here, it’s like it all hits you at once. I like walking, but sometimes it’s more fun when it blurs together. It washes over you.”

He turned back to Blaine. He wasn’t saying anything, just listening to Kurt speak, watching the sunlight flicker across his face, enjoying the amazement in his eyes as he gazed at the city. He hummed in agreement, and Kurt felt a blush creeping up his jaw.

“Sorry; I can get sentimental about this place. It’s a summer thing. Makes me nostalgic.”

Blaine kept smiling.

“Don’t apologise. It’s nice. I forget to appreciate this place until someone else talks about it. This is going to sound really cheesy, but when you hear somebody talk about something they love, it’s like you get to see through their eyes. You see it for the first time.”

The realisation that he, Kurt, the once-closeted, bullied kid in Lima, Ohio, could show someone a different way of seeing New York, that he had his own version of New York, hit him out of nowhere and sent a shiver up his spine. He sat in silence, processing it, and by the time it had sunk in they’d reached the theatre. It wasn’t the Gershwin, it wasn’t even Broadway, but it had its own charm. He slid out and held the door open for Blaine, closing it and paying the driver, tipping more generously than he needed to.

He wanted to scream with excitement every time he snuck past one of the ushers with a sly nod, a ‘Hey, Steve!’ and a wink. It was always kind of fun strolling into a theatre like it was nothing, everyone knowing and respecting him as a part of it all, but now that he had someone to enjoy it with it was almost too much to bear. In those moments, it didn’t matter that he and Blaine were there as ‘just friends’ because that was so much fun by itself. Everyone else there would have a bone to pick with him, some stupid question about a zip or a sleeve or something equally unimportant, but Blaine seemed to be genuinely in awe of it – of him. Sneaking yourself into your place of work just doesn’t feel as dangerous as sneaking someone else in.

They had two of the best seats in the house (and ignored the fact that nobody was exactly fighting for them), both agreeing wine was a bad idea. Regardless of what had happened last time Blaine had alcohol, they didn’t want to climb over everyone to get to the bathroom.

The show was not a comedy, but it was the hardest either of them had laughed in months. The actors, knowing it was a flop, had more or less given up apart from a few who were still desperately trying to give it everything, and the audience gradually moved forward as it became clear that the more expensive seats hadn’t sold. Eventually the cast was playing for laughs, making jokes at their own expense. The male lead flashed, twice, making the future starlet opposite him finally lose concentration and dissolve into giggles. She recovered quickly but never fully, and the corners of her mouth were curling on every other line.

Blaine’s laugh was infectious, and it spread to the small clump of people who had bunched together. They didn’t bother leaving seats between groups like most New Yorkers would. There was a sense of seeing it through together ‘til the bitter end, one woman even yelling ‘you can do it!’, and another ‘we believe in you!’ when a pale chorus boy forgot his only line.

Kurt couldn’t stop glancing over to Blaine, trying to see his reactions to the costumes. Every time a new one was revealed his mouth would twitch open and his breath caught in his throat. He bit his lip so many times in excitement that Kurt thought it was going to bleed.

He understood what Blaine had been saying about seeing something through someone else’s eyes. He could finally appreciate (apart from just how bad the play was) the effects he’d achieved, the ones he’d been aiming for. The light was catching the fabrics and embellishments in all the right places, complimenting every movement of every actor. Blaine’s eyes shone and reflected each colour on the stage, blues, greens, purples, and in the final act when the lead girl waltzed on in a golden ball gown (the plot was too ridiculous to explain; suffice it to say it involved a lot of twists and turns, detoured into some existential doubt, and ended with a dance), Blaine grabbed Kurt’s arm automatically. Her headpiece connected to the gown itself, and the whole thing shimmered gently, making her look like she was floating or radioactive or magical or all three. Kurt realised as he watched Blaine taking it in that it wasn’t the reflection of the dress he could see in his eyes; they were already golden.

Perhaps a couple of hours earlier, Blaine would have let go of Kurt as soon as he realised he’d clutched at his wrist. It could have been the bizarre scenario of actors powering their way, badly, through a terrible play, or maybe it was just being surrounded by laughter. There was a chance it was because of Kurt, but no matter what the reason, Blaine’s hand stayed where it was for the rest of the show, grip looser and thumb stroking gently up and down, and it made Kurt’s chest tighten.

They could barely breathe when they left. Kurt offered to take Blaine backstage to meet everyone, but he wrinkled his nose.

“I think I’d struggle to find anything nice to say. ‘Did you get a penis reduction especially for the flashing scene, or is it just cold up there?’ Maybe, ‘good for you! You didn’t fall over!’” He turned to another imaginary actor. “‘But bad luck for you; you really went right on your face, how’s the chin?’ God, you told me it was bad, but I think that’s one of the best awful plays I’ve ever seen.”

Kurt sucked in a breath between laughs.

“I can’t believe I just put you through that. Congratulations, Blaine Anderson, you just got front row tickets to the worst production of all time!”

“With far better costumes than it deserved-”

Kurt laughed.

“Right, right, good save-”

“No, Kurt, I mean it; Look, I know I don’t have as much experience as you, but I’ve met a lot of design nerds in my time and those were amazing.”

Kurt beamed. He actually preferred compliments from people who weren’t involved in the business; they always felt more honest. Nobody was trying to butter him up to make a connection. Not a professional connection, at least.

“Well, let’s try and put that behind us, shall we? I’m glad we waited before we started drinking; if we’d started in there, I doubt we would’ve stopped. Come on.”

Blaine paused on the sidewalk. Kurt turned back to see him staring at him, head cocked, still trying to stop laughing.

“Wait, wait, there’s more? That was easily a month’s entertainment-”

“You didn’t think I was about to let you go hungry?”

For half a second, Blaine tensed up at the idea of some fancy restaurant, but he reminded himself of how much fun he’d just had. It was going to be fine. He jogged to catch up with Kurt and they walked a couple of blocks until they reached a caf� so tiny the front was barely visible. Kurt opened the door for him, revealing a stairway down into a dark labyrinth of small rooms, all interconnected, full of tables and mismatched chairs. There was a gentle hum of conversation and music, and a Hispanic woman with silky black hair draped over one shoulder and red lips to match her red dress beamed at Kurt before sweeping them both inside. She kissed him on the cheek (and, Blaine suspected, goosed him, judging by the way he jumped and blushed) before introducing herself.

“You must be Blaine. Santana.”

Blaine started to extend a hand, but Santana pulled him into a hug and planted a kiss on his cheek to match Kurt’s. His suspicions were confirmed as he felt a hand squeeze his ass. She pulled back and smirked at Kurt with her eyebrows raised.

“Very nice. Firm. Come on, I’ll take you to your table.”

Blaine looked to Kurt for reassurance, and he smiled back at him.

“We go way back. She kinda grows on you. Trust me.”

He did.
The place was perfect. They were at the back of the main dining room, which had booths dotted around the edge and a couple of freestanding tables. It was large, with a small stage at the far side of the room, and their table was secluded enough to feel private. The ceilings were low, the food was delicious, and thanks to Santana, the wine was flowing freely. Blaine took another sip of red as he swallowed a mouthful of his chocolate torte.

“Here’s what I don’t understand. You know the play’s bad. You know the people there don’t appreciate you. You know you can do so much better; there must be a thousand design companies, maybe even magazines that would kill to have you working for them. Why are you still there?”

Kurt dropped his napkin on his spotless plate (he’d given Santana his best cheesecake recipe years ago and ‘The Kurt Hum-melt’ had become one of her best sellers; that entitled him to free dinners for life as if she wouldn’t have given them to him anyway) and sat back in the cosy leather seat. His foot fidgeted against a table leg.

“I’m not really sure. It was always supposed to be temporary, but the money was good. I guess I got comfortable. I was actually going to move on, but then the insemination worked a lot sooner than we expected, and I didn’t want to screw everything up with the baby coming.”

Blaine nodded, taking another mouthful of his dessert and speaking again before he could swallow.

“But what about now? I don’t want to overstep, but I know it’s not the money.” Hiram and Leroy had paid for Rachel’s substantial life insurance policy, the entirety of which had gone straight to Kurt as her kind-of spouse and father of her child. Nobody contested it; he was essentially her life partner, and he had enough to worry about without money problems. Even Hiram knew it was for the best that the money went towards Eliza’s care. Blaine repeated his earlier question: “Why are you still there?”

“What about you? Why aren’t you pursuing the whole music thing-”

Kurt felt bad as soon as he’d said it, but Blaine didn’t flinch.

“That’s different. I like what I’m doing now. You don’t.”

“I’m not good enough.”

“Yes you are. You know you’re more than good enough.”

“Do you doubt my self-doubt? You’re going to give me a complex-”

Kurt reached for his glass, but Blaine pushed it away. Kurt let his hand drop to the table.

“Kurt.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to stop me from having a drink-”

Blaine covered Kurt’s hand with his own.

“Kurt. Why?”

Kurt’s answer was quiet. He knew he couldn’t keep deflecting. He didn’t want to anymore.

“Because of her.” Blaine gave Kurt’s hand a squeeze and leaned forward. “I… I can’t. I was there when she… it’s kind of… if I left, it’d be like I was leaving her, and I’m already-”

Blaine frowned.

“Already what?”

Kurt made himself look straight into Blaine’s eyes, and he almost melted then and there.

“I’m already starting to forget. Being part of a theatre, working in musicals, even terrible ones, it’s her. It’s a little piece of her I can hold onto.”

Blaine nudged the wine glass back toward his hand, but he didn’t pick it up.

“Kurt, you know-”

“I know it’s stupid. She’s gone. She’s gone, and no terrible play is going to change that, and maybe I’m just staying because it feels safe-”

“No, Kurt, I just… you’ve got all the Rachel you need. You’ve got Lizzie. There’s more Rachel in her than in that show.”

“You didn’t know her.”

“I know. From what you’ve told me, it’s my loss. That little girl is smart and loud and adorable, and that sounds a lot like the Rachel I’ve heard about, mixed with a lot of you.” He gave Kurt’s hand another gentle squeeze. “The play’s awful. As far as I can tell, Rachel wasn’t. She’d want you to do whatever makes you happy.”

Kurt nodded, blinking hard to try and stop them stinging. Blaine’s hand slipped down from the table. There was a cheer from their fellow diners, and Kurt looked up to see Santana sashaying onto the stage, her dress barely dusting the floor as it swished around her feet. This was why Kurt had picked a Thursday. She had different musicians in every night, but she took to the stage once a week to seduce the crowd with her smooth, sultry spin on whichever songs took her fancy. Tonight, however, Kurt had made a special request, and he smiled as the piano kicked in from the corner.

“My baby don’t care for shows; my baby don’t care for clothes; my baby just cares for me…”

It was faster than anything Santana would’ve picked, but this was perfect.

Kurt realised Blaine had stood up next to him and was offering his hand and smiling. Nobody else was dancing yet, but they would be after a couple of bars. The atmosphere was irresistible.

“Come on.”

Kurt slipped his hand into Blaine’s and let himself be led to the dance floor. Blaine laid a gentle hand on the small of his back and they swayed softly in time to the music. They kept their hips an appropriate distance apart and kept talking as they twirled each other around, ignoring the various couples and groups of friends around them. This is why Kurt picked this place – aside from the fact that Santana owned it and he was guaranteed special treatment and that it wasn’t unbearably ‘showbiz’ – it wasn’t strictly romantic. It was comfortable and friendly, and they wouldn’t feel awkward being the only two people in the room who weren’t in a relationship.

“My baby don’t care for cars and races; my baby don’t care for… he don’t care for high-tone places…”

Kurt squeezed gently on Blaine’s waist.

“Kurt?”

“Mmm?”

Blaine reached up to mutter in his ear.

“Did you by any chance have something to do with the song selection?”

Kurt almost shivered at the feeling of Blaine’s breath so close, but smiled and kept looking over his shoulder, pulling him a little closer.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Santana would never let me tell her what to do.”

Blaine nodded slowly, not buying it for a second, but he didn’t pull away from Kurt’s hold. Instead he stepped into it before taking Kurt’s hand; stepping back and flicking it so he flew out then tugging him back in again. Kurt crashed into him and they both laughed helplessly, their heads on each other’s shoulders as they shook with giggles. Santana smiled as she watched them but kept singing, hitting every note beautifully as always.

“I wonder what’s wrong with baby… My baby just cares for, just says his prayers for, my baby just cares for me…”

~

“Okay, that’s it; I’ve been dying to ask you all night; what was all of this in aid of? The show, dinner, dancing-”

“Dancing was your idea.”

“Touch�.” He grinned. “But seriously, why did you do all of this? Surely you must have someone else you could have gone with, someone more…”

Kurt took Blaine’s arm and stopped him in the middle of the street. They shuffled to one side to let other people past. They’d stayed later than anyone else, soaking up the music and the warmth. Santana had tried to keep them longer, but they knew they had to relieve the babysitters. Hiram and Leroy were always glad to help, but they’d be struggling to stay up past eleven, never mind 2am. The breeze was still drifting through the streets alongside them.

“That’s exactly why. I didn’t say anything before, Blaine, but the other night when you were still out of it, you started talking about how you’d tried to go to some expensive bar with your friends, and you thought just because you hated it you were boring - well, you said you thought I would think you were boring.”

Blaine’s eyes narrowed and kept darting around as the conversation started to seep back into his mind.

“Wait – I said that?”

“Yes, you kept saying how I probably loved all those clubs and that whole scene, which is crazy, because a) I’m thirty and b) I never liked it in the first place. Even though a night in with you and Lizzie is still perfect, a night out doesn’t have to be some obscene affair with a thousand pretentious assholes. Dinner and dancing in a small place like that, local and quiet and friendly, that’s all I want. And the fact that it was with you, well… that made it even better. I wanted to go with you. I had such a good time tonight, Blaine.”

Blaine smiled, his eyes shining. Kurt couldn’t tell if he was tearing up or if it was just the moonlight, but they were beautiful. He was beautiful.

“Me too. Thank you. So much.”

They both wanted to do something – hold hands, jump into each other’s arms, make out in the street – but it was harder there than it was in the caf�. With no music, nobody dancing around them, no underground restaurant that felt like it was their own secret cavern, they felt exposed. They both took a deep breath and Kurt gestured in the direction of home. They were only a few blocks away, and they could walk home in the time it would take to hail a cab.

“Shall we?”

Blaine smiled, and they started walking again, side by side. The backs of their hands brushed against each other, and at first they flinched away, but the second time they both lingered. Out in the city, late at night, just the two of them alone, this slightest contact between them was enough to make both of their pulses race and their chests tighten. Kurt bit his lip.

“Kurt, when I was saying all that stuff, about being boring or whatever,” he felt a blush edging up to his cheeks, “I didn’t, uh… I didn’t say anything else, did I?”

Kurt bit his lip harder and smiled at the ground.

“No,” the kind of guy who could deserve you… “No, I can’t remember anything else.” Angular… “Maybe something about me being good at drawing. Nothing I didn’t already know.”

Blaine kept frowning, trying to force the fog from his brain, but he realised what a mess he’d been that night. It was probably for the best that he forgot.

“I guess I should stop saying that kind of thing if it makes you take me to stupid plays and gets me felt up by your scary friends.”

Kurt shouldered him playfully, but it almost knocked him over. When he straightened himself out, he put his hand back in its place next to Kurt’s, a little closer than before. Nobody else could have seen their fingers stroking together, but they both felt it and suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

This was anything but boring.