Blaine has decided that he hates being alone. It's not even necessarily that he's alone, he's just lonely. He hasn't lived on his own since before Eli, and that's been almost five years. Not to mention he has next to no inspiration these days; the times he sits at his piano and just stares at the keys forlornly far outnumber the days where he actually manages to get notes onto the pre-drawn staff lines in his notebook. Santana isn't pleased with him, either, since no music means she has nothing to work with for her writing. The two of them have been partners for four years, and they haven't had a dry spell like this since the first few months of their friendship when they still didn't understand how to work with each other.

Kurt helps. Blaine's a little jealous, actually, because Kurt seems to be doing just fine without Adam. As a matter of fact, the only time he ever mentions him is when Blaine asks.

But even just being with Kurt helps. He distracts Blaine with the way he orders his food at restaurants, always prompting incredulous stares from the waiters; the way he dresses, always chic and obviously well planned in advance, even if they're just watching bad reality television in the comfort of one of their apartments; the way he laughs with his whole face when Blaine says something particularly funny; the way he always picks up the phone, no matter what time it is. In any other world, Blaine would probably be head over heels for him by now, but he doesn't trust himself not to fuck up again. Besides, he still misses Eli.

He's sitting alone in his apartment on a Friday night, mind awash with memories of the first few months of his relationship when everything was happy and hopeful, when he can't take it anymore. If he doesn't get his mind in another place soon, he'll explode. So he picks up the phone.

"Hello?" Kurt's voice is pleasantly musical and lilting as always, answering on the second ring.

"What are you doing?" Blaine asks without preamble.

He hears Kurt snort rather indelicately down the line. "Watching Breakfast at Tiffany's."

"Ooh, what channel?" Blaine's already reaching for the remote.

"TCM." He pauses while Blaine flips through the TV guide before he finds it, making a satisfied noise of affirmation. "How was your day?"

Blaine tries not to sigh too dramatically. "It was fine. Yours?"

"It was good. What's up?"

Kurt can tell something's wrong, and Blaine knows it. "I miss him."

"I don't miss Adam, I really don't."

Again, Blaine marvels at Kurt's speedy recovery. Then again, he and Adam were never actually married. And Adam never fucked anyone else. "You're lucky. Everything I do reminds me of him. I keep seeing his face everywhere, too. And then I start panicking before I realize that there's no way it's really him."

Kurt makes a sound of sympathy in the back of his throat. Blaine can almost see the scrunch between his eyebrows, the way his lips twitch down. It's late, so Kurt's probably wearing his glasses by now. They fall silent for a moment as Audrey Hepburn jumps out of the cab in the pouring rain to look for Cat. "Last scene," Kurt murmurs.

"Audrey Hepburn. Heck of a woman, but a little high maintenance for my taste."

Kurt scoffs. "I'm going to pretend you didn't just insult the greatest film starlet of all time. Besides, she's not your taste at all. She doesn't have the right parts."

"True. But still. She strings along Paul for the whole movie, and she's hopelessly naive."

"It was the sixties, Blaine. Women were supposed to act like that. Besides, she's fabulous. Holly Golightly was my first role model."

Blaine smirks, imagining a much younger Kurt traipsing around in his mother's pearls with a candy cigarette hanging out of his mouth. "I'm sure she was."

He hears Kurt sigh as Holly and Paul kiss beneath the heavy rain. "Best last scene in cinematic history."

Blaine is nodding before he remembers Kurt can't see him. "Definitely set the bar for the cliched kiss in the rain."

They fall silent again as Moon River plays and the credits begin to roll. "Are you okay?" Kurt asks suddenly.

"Maybe. I think I'm coming down with something. It's probably one of those twenty-four hour tumors that have been going around."

"Blaine, you don't have a tumor."

"You don't know that."

Kurt sighs in a way that he seems to have specifically reserved for Blaine. "Okay, fine. You have a tumor. You're probably going to die."

"Probably."

"Will you sleep tonight?"

Blaine glances at the clock. It's late, but he's not tired in a sleepy way. More in the emotionally worn down way he's been sporting lately. "I'll try." He already knows he won't.

"And if you can't?"

"Then I'll just stay up and moan." At Kurt's silence, Blaine lets out a few long, low, guttural, and utterly pathetic moans.

Kurt giggles. "Alright. Well, goodnight, Blaine."

"Goodnight."

Blaine's sure that Kurt goes to bed almost as soon as he hangs up. Blaine stays up and moans.

"I had that dream again."

"Which one?"

Fall has settled heavily in New York, and the trees in Central Park are bright shades of red, yellow, and orange. Kurt and Blaine are crunching through the leaves that have fallen to the ground on their way to get coffee before they both have to be at work.

Blaine rolls his eyes like he can't believe Kurt doesn't know exactly what he's talking about. "You know, the one where I'm having sex with Robin Williams and the entire cast of Whose Line is it Anyway is holding up score cards."

Kurt stares at him, blinking slowly. "And what's the verdict?"

"Wayne Brady gave me a ten, but I got a 4.5 from Collin Mochrie."

Shaking his head, Kurt tries to hold back his laughter. "Are you sure that's not just a really weird repressed fantasy?"

Blaine shrugs. "Usually my weird repressed fantasies involve David Bowie somehow."

"Well, I don't have any weird repressed fantasies."

"Yes you do."

"I really don't, though."

"Kurt, everyone has fantasies. Come on." Blaine raises his eyebrows knowingly.

Kurt sighs deeply and stares at the sky, a resigned expression coming over his face. "Fine. There is this one." Blaine gestures for him to elaborate. "Well, there's a guy."

Blaine snorts. "Obviously. What does he look like?"

"Well...tall. And fit. But I can never really see his face."

"So what does this tall and fit and faceless man do?

Kurt pauses to run a hand through his hair, cheeks tinged with pink from a mixture of the chill in the air and his obvious embarrassment. "He rips off all of my clothes and then does a strip tease."

Blaine blinks a little in surprise. "And?"

"And that's it."

"That's it? That's no fun at all."

"It varies sometimes!" Kurt defends, starting to walk again.

"What part?"

"What we're wearing."

Two weeks later, they're walking through a tiny art gallery that they stumbled upon on the way to lunch. Blaine is slowly getting bored and restless.

"I've decided that for the rest of the day, we're going to talk like this." Blaine says as they walk to another exhibit, putting on a thick and ridiculous European accent.

Kurt giggles, hiding his teeth behind his hand. "Like this?" He asks in a bad imitation of Blaine's voice.

"No, no, like this." Blaine draws it out more this time, reducing Kurt to a fit of giggles again. "Repeat after me: Waiter."

"Waiter," Kurt attempts through his giggles.

"There is too much pepper," Blaine continues, growing more and more amused at Kurt's reaction.

Kurt huffs out a laugh that is loud enough to draw glances in their direction. "There is too much pepper," he repeats, his accent still subpar to Blaine's.

"On my paprikash."

"On my paprikash." Kurt laughs again, and Blaine joins him.

"Will you go to the movies with me tonight?" Blaine asks in the same ridiculous accent. Kurt starts to repeat what he said, but Blaine holds up a hand. "No, please to be answering. Will you go to the movies with me tonight?"

"Oh!" Kurt says, the amusement fading slowly from his face. "I can't, actually."

"Why, do you have a hot date?" Blaine's eyes are dancing with amusement.

Kurt looks away, toward some confusing abstract oil painting. "Well, yes."

Blaine's mouth drops in surprise, his eyebrows shooting up. "Really?" he asks, dropping the accent.

"Yes." Kurt can feel himself getting warmer under Blaine's inquisitive gaze.

"Wow. Good for you." Blaine turns to look at the painting as well, tugging slightly on the collar of his polo shirt.

"Y'know, you should get out there too, Blaine."

Blaine looks back at Kurt and grimaces. "Oh no, I'm not ready. I wouldn't be good for anyone right now." He uses the accent again, the humor a natural shield.

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Of course you are. Just try it."

"It was horrible."

It's a week later, and they're rearranging the furniture in Kurt's apartment to make room for his new coffee table.

Kurt sighs, straightening up from where he was bent over to move the ottoman. "Blaine, what can be worse than a man making direct eye contact with you while he ate and then stealing your fork to pick his teeth with halfway through the meal?" he asks, recalling his own date from a few days prior.

Blaine flops down onto the couch he's supposed to be moving. "Well, first of all, he was shorter than I thought. Shorter than me, even." Kurt winces. "I know. So I took him to this Ethiopian restaurant, because he wanted to try it. And we sat down, and I said, 'I didn't know they had food in Ethiopia. This'll be easy, I'll just order two empty plates and we can leave'." Kurt laughs, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. Blaine holds out his hands. "See? I got nothing from him. Not even a smile.

"It just went downhill from there. We got to the smalltalk, and he said that he went to Michigan State, which of course reminds me of Eli."

"Eli went to Michigan State?" Kurt asks.

Blaine shakes his head. "No, he went to Northwestern, but they're both Big Ten schools," he says, as if that's an obvious connection to make. Kurt represses an eye-roll.

"Anyway, I started panicking, and I was getting all sweaty and I couldn't breathe. I barely made it through dinner."

Kurt reaches out to sympathetically pat his knee. "Well, it'll take awhile for us to get used to being back out there. Eventually we'll be comfortable enough to have a good date. Maybe we'll even eventually be comfortable enough to sleep with someone else."

Blaine looks up. "Oh, I slept with him."

Kurt's eyes go wide. "You did?"

"Sure. It wasn't bad, either."

"Anderson, please explain to me again how you're not fucking him."

Santana watches him with sharp eyes as he takes a long swig of his drink. She'd cornered him in his studio earlier and dragged him down to their favorite bar, claiming that he needed a drink despite the fact that it was only one in the afternoon.

"We're just not like that. I can really talk to him, you know?" He's tried to have this conversation with her before, but seeing as Santana's type is basically anything with a pulse, she's been less than understanding. "If I go out on dates, or just have a bad day or whatever, I can tell him about it."

Santana leans back, looking affronted. "So you can tell him things you can't tell me?"

Blaine shoots her a look. "That's not what I meant."

"So what do you talk about?"

Blaine shrugs. "Everything. Like, the other night, I was with this guy, and he started barking while we were having sex."

Santana's eyes go wide. "He was barking?"

"Yep. And I can talk to Kurt about that stuff. He doesn't judge me."

Santana shakes her head. "I don't get it, but whatever. I guess you've gotta do you."

Blaine smiles. He knew she'd get there eventually.

A few days later, he's sitting in a diner with Kurt and relaying his latest sexual escapades around a mouth full of roast beef while Kurt methodically peels half of the meat from his own sandwich.

"I just don't get it," Kurt interrupts, just as Blaine's wrapping up the story with the details of his speedy escape.

"What?" Blaine pauses, alarmed.

Kurt looks up at him. "How you can just leave like that. Don't you ever think about how they feel?"

Blaine swallows, something like shame crawling up his spine. "It's not exactly about feelings, Kurt."

He should be more prepared for the sharp glare Kurt directs his way, but it still leaves him feeling about two inches tall. Kurt sighs and turns his attention back to his food. "So it's about getting off?"

"Obviously."

Kurt tilts his head as he looks at Blaine again, his eyes narrowing like he's searching for something. "And you're sure that that gets done?"

Blaine raises an eyebrow. "It's pretty easy to tell, Kurt."

The corner's of Kurt's mouth twitch before going flat again. "But are you sure they enjoy it?"

"Once again, it's pretty easy to tell." Blaine's not sure where Kurt's going with this, but he's pretty sure he doesn't exactly like it.

Kurt shrugs. "Yeah, but that's a stimulation thing. How can you know that they actually enjoy themselves?"

"Kurt, how often have you convincingly faked an orgasm? It's basically impossible for guys."

Kurt raises an immaculate eyebrow in an all too familiar expression. "Is it?"

Blaine nods and shrugs, sure that this will be the end of it. He picks up his sandwich again and starts to eat. Kurt is watching him, his lower lip caught between his teeth.

"Oh god."

Blaine freezes. Kurt's head is tilted back, his eyes half-closed, and he just moaned in the middle of a crowded restaurant. "Are you alright?" Blaine asks uncertainly.

"Oh, jesus, yeah, right there," Kurt breathes, threading a hand through his hair. The action pushes his head back further, revealing more of the pale column of his throat. "Ah, yes! God, yes!"

Blaine swallows heavily, setting his sandwich back down. He glances furtively around as the other patrons begin to stare.

Kurt lets out another moan, long and low and loud. "Yes! Oh god, that's it, yes! Yes yes yes yes!" He groans loudly, both hands dropping heavily to the table.

The plates rattle, and Blaine jumps. Kurt has come back to himself, smiling smugly at Blaine as he picks up his sandwich and takes a bite. Blaine blinks slowly and shakes his head, caught somewhere between arousal and embarrassment.

He picks up his sandwich again, resigned, and hears the man at the next table tell the waiter, "I'll have what he's having."

Christmas has always been a simple affair for Blaine. Back when he was still living with his parents, it was always a grand affair that involved jackets and ties at dinner and sitting up straight so his aunts and uncles and grandparents would commend his parents on his splendid upbringing. It was always so stuffy and stressful and Blaine positively hated it.

It got better once he moved to New York. He no longer felt pressured to go home for the holiday, despite his mother's guilt-laden phone calls. He'd much rather sit in his apartment with a mug of coffee and Bailey's and watch old, corny Christmas classics, then maybe go for a walk and enjoy the rare quiet of the usually bustling city.

It's his first Christmas without Eli, and he can't help but dread it. Despite his reluctance, Kurt still drags him along to pick out a Christmas tree, which they haul back to Kurt's apartment and decorate together. Kurt's family will be in town soon, and even though he invited Blaine to come over, Blaine had declined. He appreciates the offer, but he'd much rather drown his loneliness in Scotch than put on a show for Kurt's parents.

It comes and goes uneventfully for Blaine. He opens the packages his parents and his brother had sent, has far fewer drinks than he had originally planned, and falls asleep watching It's a Wonderful Life.

Kurt's family goes home a couple of days later, and when Kurt calls to invite him to Rachel's New Year's party, he doesn't decline. He could use an excuse to shower and get dressed.

Kurt looks fantastic, as usual, his Dolce and Gabbana suit tailored perfectly to his every line and curve. He waves off Blaine's compliments, claiming he stole it from the Vogue closet.

At first, the party is uncomfortable. It's full of people Blaine doesn't really know, and nobody is drunk enough to let loose. As the night goes on, however, the music gradually gets louder and people start dancing, double fisting the sleeves of their partners and glasses of champagne.

Blaine drags Kurt onto the dance floor the second a Madonna song comes on, hamming it up and mouthing along to the lyrics. Kurt laughs at him before downing the rest of his drink and joining in. They're both breathless with laughter by the time it's over, and then the song changes over to something much more mellow. The guests start to partner off, and Kurt and Blaine look at each other for a moment before shrugging and reaching for each other.

Blaine's arm goes snugly around Kurt's waist, their hands tangled together. He closes his eyes, letting the familiar scent of Kurt's cologne wash over him along with the music. He breathes deeply, more deeply than he has in months, and pulls Kurt closer.

Kurt laughs softly. "Now we can dance cheek to cheek." He squeezes at Blaine's shoulder before his hand slides around to the back of his neck.

Blaine hums contentedly. He leans his head against Kurt's temple, his eyes sliding shut again. There's a strange sort of comfort in this, and something that stirs deeper. Something he doesn't want to admit he feels, because that would ruin everything.

The song ends, and he and Kurt slowly pull away from each other just as the other guests start the countdown. They stare at each other for a long moment, not sure where they stand.

"Let's get some air," Blaine suggests, and Kurt's shoulders sag in relief as he nods in agreement.

Blaine pulls Kurt out onto the wide balcony where several other people have gathered, all drunk and reaching the final numbers of the countdown. As midnight hits and the New Year is upon them, Blaine looks out over the skyline, feeling Kurt's eyes on him.

They look at each other, smiling awkwardly. It's the first time Blaine has ever felt uneasy around Kurt, but he tells himself that it's just the atmosphere. "Happy New Year," they say at the same time, chuckling half heartedly.

Blaine sighs before thinking screw it, and pulls Kurt in by the wrists, kissing him quickly. Kurt blinks in surprise when he pulls away, but smiles widely, teeth showing and nose crinkling. "Thanks for coming with me."

"No problem," Blaine smiles in return, the comfortable feeling settling back around them. "And hey, next year, if neither of us has a date again..." he shrugs, and Kurt rolls his eyes playfully.

"Sounds like a plan to me." Kurt smirks at him and leans up against the railing.

Blaine stays back and watches him, unable to ignore the memory of how soft Kurt's lips had felt against his.