Day 015: Monday 1st October, 2012
The Wisdom of Strangers (New Jersey)

"Damn the Man, save the Empire!"

"I'm drawing a blank."

"Seriously, Blaine? No veto for you..."



"You want him, don't you?"

"Yes. Wait, what?"

Kurt dragged his eyes away from where Blaine was dancing to Point of View, his features animated as he talked to one of the other engagement party guests, and glanced up at where Andrew stood next to him at the bar. He wore a knowing expression, and took a slow sip of his Negroni while watching Kurt over the rim of his glass.

"Blaine," he finally said. "You want him."

"No, I—"

"Every time I've looked over at you, you've had your eyes glued to him," Andrew continued, sliding onto a stool and signaling the bartender for a refill for Kurt, who'd been playing it safe with vodka-cranberries for most of the evening. It was his turn to drive in the morning, and he didn't want to be hungover for it. "So why aren't you doing anything about it?"

"That's none—"

"—of my business, I know. Indulge me."

Kurt regarded him coolly for a moment, this tall, dark and handsome thirty-something professional with whom he'd been acquainted for approximately three hours and felt himself wishing he could go back to a far simpler time in his life, when he could have just walked away without it being seen as an act of cowardice.

Didn't things used to be so much simpler? They had certainly felt like it the previous day, when he and Blaine had spent the entirety of their Sunday wandering the Ocean City boardwalk, checking out the shops and ducking seagulls, and finally heading to the movies to catch a revival showing of Empire Records. Before they had made a last-minute decision to head up to Hoboken to check out the waterfront, Blaine had been threatening to buy him a neon yellow t-shirt bearing the 'YOLO' slogan, until Kurt had reminded him that he could only get away with buying him one obnoxious shirt per year.

Without dwelling upon the fact that Kurt had let his eyes flutter closed for a second each and every time Blaine's arm had brushed his at the movie theater, it had been like nothing had changed between them, like these moments of push and pull that they'd for some reason been experiencing had never even happened. Like he hadn't wanted to take Blaine's face in his hands and kiss him until they both couldn't breathe, right there on the Brooklyn Bridge.

Obviously, it was just a sex thing. Kurt hadn't gotten laid in a while, and as he'd said to April the day before they left, anyone could see that Blaine was hot. The difference was that Blaine was also his best friend, and there was a line between them that couldn't be crossed, no matter how sexually frustrated he was. Blaine deserved better than that.

"We're best friends," Kurt said, leaning his elbow on the bar and cupping the back of his head. "Have been since we were six. It just... It wouldn't be a good idea."

"And why not?" Andrew asked conversationally, as if he were enquiring about the weather and not the very foundation of Kurt's entire value system.

"I mean, there was a time when I thought that maybe... Maybe we'd end up as more than what we are, but... I was just a kid. What we have now is—is much better. He's my best friend, you know? He's the most important person in the world to me, and I don't know that I could take that chance and risk fucking everything up," Kurt admitted, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could stop them. Perhaps there was something to this whole 'confidence in strangers' thing after all. Andrew was silent for a moment, looking like he was carefully considering something, and Kurt decided to change the subject before their conversation started striking all the wrong chords. "Anyway, this is your night! Tell me about how you and Toby met."

"Ha! Well, um... I'd just moved to the city to be with my college boyfriend who was already living there, and when I showed up a day early, I found him fucking somebody else in the bed that was supposed to be ours. I had nowhere to go; David was the only person I knew in the city, and so of course I went to a bar. And..." Andrew trailed off, his voice growing soft as he looked over at where Toby sat talking with two girls, everything about him artfully and impeccably disheveled, from his wild bird's nest of blond hair to his loosened tie, and he somehow managed to pull it off without looking like a thirty-year-old poser. "There he was. I walked into this shitty little hole in the wall called The Crow, and he was in the middle of changing his shirt, right there behind the bar."

"Love at first sight?" Kurt asked slyly.

"Hardly. He took one look at my face and mixed me one of these," Andrew said, tilting his glass. "We talked all night, he gave me a place to crash, and about six months later I finally got my act together and kissed him. The rest is history."

"Who proposed?"

Andrew's laugh came out as a sharp bark, and he wiped his hand over his face. "He did, behind a fucking 7-Eleven."

Kurt furrowed his brow. "How does that even happen?"

"Oh, he didn't plan on it, I'm sure. He'd spent a month doing all these things for me... Expensive dinners, dropping by my office with a surprise latte and a cruller, taking me to some of my favorite places in the city... You know, the usual proposal set-ups. And there always seemed to be something on the tip of his tongue, but he just couldn't get the words out. Of course, I had no idea. We'd never even talked about getting married before the laws changed.

"Anyway, we were on our way back from dinner one night and I got so frustrated with the way he was acting that I just picked a fight with him. I don't even remember what it was about now. We stopped for gas, and I just—I had to take a minute to get my shit together, because fighting never solves a fucking thing. Anyway, I was standing around behind this 7-Eleven and he just came out of nowhere and started in on round forty-six, going on and on about how I'm so damn hard to propose to. So once I got over the surprise of it all, I just told him he could ask me right then and there, and I'd say yes."

"And he asked you, and you said yes," Kurt prompted, and Andrew grinned.

"He got down on one knee and just looked at me like he hated me a little bit, and said, 'so will you marry me or not?' And I kicked him in the shin for being such an asshole about it, but yeah, I said yes."

Kurt smiled despite himself, and found his gaze wandering back to settle on Blaine once more, still dancing and surrounded by people smiling and having a good time. He watched the way Blaine's hips moved, how he turned on the spot and shook his shoulders back and forth. When Blaine caught his eye and grinned, the low light casting shadows across his face, Kurt's stomach dropped and he turned back to Andrew.

"Kurt, I don't expect you to completely understand what I'm about to say to you," Andrew began, scratching at the stubble beneath his chin. "But there's something that my dad always used to say to me, and that was, 'Try everything once, but make the mistakes first.'"

"I don't wanna make this mistake," Kurt replied quietly, eyes trained on his glass. He'd never been that great at telling lies right to a person's face.

"Is this guy bothering you?"

Toby had appeared at Kurt's other side seemingly from out of nowhere, glancing down at him with kind eyes and a knowing smirk. He stood straight, self-assured, and with a napkin wrapped around the stem of his wine glass.

"Not at all," Kurt answered breezily, as if all was right with the world and he hadn't just been getting his ass handed to him along with a side of truth bomb. "Thank you for inviting us, by the way. It's a great party."

"It's the least we could do after Andrew took you to the pavement downstairs," Toby said, waving him off with a slight wince.

"Sorry again about that," Andrew intoned. "There's fashionably late, obnoxiously late, and then there's us."

"It's fine, I promise. I don't bruise all that easily," Kurt quipped—another lie. He'd already been to the bathroom once to check out the wicked bruise that was already blossoming purple and red along his hip. Perhaps he needed to start looking around corners with a mirror—perhaps not, if getting mown down by a handsome stranger was a thing that was going to happen to him now.

"Well, if I'm not interrupting, I just wanted to see about stealing away my fianc� for a dance, now that the band is off their break," Toby said, and Kurt nodded.

"Of course, of course."

"Maybe it's not a mistake. Things like this are never that complicated, you know. It's people that complicate them," Andrew said, his voice low enough for only Kurt to hear. With one last meaningful glance in Blaine's direction, he took the hand that Toby was offering him, and left Kurt with his thoughts.

He watched the string quartet, hired to provide most of the evening's entertainment, file back onto the small stage that had been set up in front of the HMag penthouse's floor to ceiling windows. Wondering if Andrew was right, he downed a healthy mouthful of his fresh vodka-cranberry. Maybe... Maybe giving into this thing between him and Blaine, whatever the fuck it was, would be good for them. Blaine wanted it as well, that much he knew, and aside from the fact that it terrified him just a little bit, it could be beneficial for them both to just give into it and get it out of their systems.

It won't be out of your system, though, chided a little voice in the back of his head. You'll only want more, because you've always been—

"Shut up," Kurt muttered, knocking back the rest of his drink in one and wiping his hand across his mouth just as the band started the first song of the second half of their set to a round of applause.

"You owe me a dance, mister," Blaine said into his ear, his warm breath smelling faintly of rum and his hand light on Kurt's wrist. "Can't have you propping up the bar all night long."

"Next song, maybe," Kurt said, trying to put it off long enough for the sudden rush of Dutch courage to fade away.

"You love this song; don't even try to deny it," Blaine said, cutting Kurt off before he'd even opened his mouth to refute. "And I know you have a super-secret thing for The Wanted, so just for tonight, skip the eye-rolling and come dance with me."

Blaine's eyes were imploring, hopeful in that puppy dog way that Kurt found nigh impossible to refuse, and his willpower slipped from his tenuous grasp quicker than sand. The beat kicked in as he hopped down from his stool and let Blaine lead him onto the dance floor where the rest of the guests were already gathering, dancing in couples and groups.

Kurt took a steadying breath when Blaine's hands settled on his hips, swaying them in time with his own, and he raised his arms, resting his hands just over Blaine's shoulders. Yes, this was fine; he could deal with this. This was a safe distance, and Blaine was smiling and happy, and the music was fantastic. Everything was fantastic.

And then Blaine leaned in, and every muscle in Kurt's body tensed. "That guy by the end of the bar, the one in the corduroy shirt? He's been checking you out all night," he murmured next to Kurt's ear. "Pretty hot, a good dancer..."

Slowly and in time with the song, Kurt turned them so that he could glance over Blaine's shoulder at the man in question. Blaine was right; under the brightly spot-lit bar, he could see the guy watching him, though he didn't appear to have the temerity to hold Kurt's gaze longer than a couple of seconds before he was looking away. He was classically handsome, though perhaps a little strong in the jaw for Kurt's taste, with thick, jet-black hair that had obviously been sculpted into an organized chaos.

"You and I don't often find the same people attractive," he mused, turning back to Blaine and unconsciously running his thumb down the column of Blaine's neck.

"Not often, no. Maybe we should invite him back to the R.V. with us," Blaine said, wiggling his eyebrows and holding Kurt's gaze in a way that, had he not known better, would have made him think Blaine was serious.

"Nah," Kurt said, "he's not really my type."

"Your type is breathing, Kurt," Blaine countered sardonically.

"Play nice," Kurt said, batting his shoulder, and Blaine just smiled up at him and wrapped an arm around his waist, forcing them closer together like it was the most natural thing in the world. He could feel the heat from Blaine's body pouring off him in waves, even through the layers of their clothes and the space between them, and it was close to intoxicating. Blaine reached behind his own neck to take Kurt's right hand, his thumb pressing over Kurt's lifeline and fingers wrapped around the back, and Kurt only just held back a yelp of surprise as Blaine dipped him in time with the strings that led into the second chorus.

Blaine righted them quickly, spinning Kurt out and then back in so fast that his feet could barely keep up, and it was only when the song grew quieter that it dimly registered that Blaine's chest was pressed to Kurt's back, their joined hands crossed over his waist. Kurt turned to face him, a hand pressed just over his heart, and they circled one another slowly. Blaine's eyes were hooded and growing darker by the second, tongue flicking out to wet his lips, and all it would take would be for Kurt to lean down, close that last gap. Had this always been there, this nameless something, clamoring in the air between them and waiting to take hold? They could be within its grip in less than seconds.

Blaine's fingertips ghosted the sides of Kurt's neck in the same second that he caught Andrew watching them in his periphery, and it was all too much. Too much pressure, too much expectation, too much that he could fuck up completely if he just acted on his instincts. He closed his eyes, exhaled sharply through his nose, and took Blaine's hands away.

Things like this are never complicated, you know. It's people that complicate them.

Andrew's words ringing in his ears like a cheap taunt, Kurt did the only thing that he knew how to do: turned tail and walked away, all the way to the oh-thank-god-it's-empty restroom where he locked himself into a stall with fumbling hands. It felt like his entire body was in revolt. The adrenalin that had started its typhoon through his bloodstream the very moment that Blaine had first touched him was chanting Blaine's name, imprinting it into his every cell, and he couldn't think, could only hear the roaring in his ears to a double-time beat of the song from which he'd run.

Feeling like the worst human being in all of history, Kurt closed the lid of the toilet and sank onto it with a shaky sigh, fisted his hands in his hair and squeezed his eyes shut until they stopped burning quite so fiercely. He felt ashamed and utterly defeated. What the fuck was he doing? Who had he become? He hadn't always been this ridiculous slave to his feelings—he was Kurt Hummel, for god's sake. He was the one who fucked all the boys he wouldn't in a million years trust to keep his heart safe, and in turn he wasn't forced into keeping theirs. It was easy and fun and simple—three essential attributes which would never apply to this thing with Blaine, this intense thing that made Kurt feel wrong and sordid and, somewhere in amongst the locked file cabinet in the deepest recesses of his heart, also... Kind of right.

But Kurt had just gotten Blaine back after a barren year of separation. He couldn't risk it, he just couldn't.

No, he needed to get himself together, go back out to the party. Smile and play the gracious guest of two people who had quite literally run into him and repaid their folly with an enjoyable evening and free drinks. Tell Blaine that he'd had one too many of those free drinks and had needed to use the facilities. Put the game face back on and hope to god that it was convincing enough, when all he wanted to do was tip over sideways and lie on the ground until his heart stopped spinning.

"Deep breath, Kurt," he whispered. He stood, unlocked the stall door and breathed a sigh of relief when he didn't see Blaine standing on the other side. He rolled his shoulders, fixed his hair in the tall mirror over the sinks, and with an adopted sanguinity he didn't truly feel, left the restroom to face the music.



Distance: 1,155 miles