"Kurt! Oh my god, Kurt, look at this!"

Kurt sighs, because in the past three hours, he's probably heard those words about four thousand times. They're supposed to be shopping for a housewarming gift for Brittany and Santana, who finally found an apartment within their price range, but all they've done is wander from store to store on Fifth Avenue and screw around. Or rather, Blaine's been screwing around. As Kurt has discovered, Blaine has a particularly strong inner five-year-old.

"What now?" Kurt asks, trying to keep the irritated huff out of his voice as he turns around to find Blaine ogling a strange looking helmet with a fan attached to the front.

"It's a self-cooling pith helmet," Blaine explains matter-of-factly. He grabs one and plops it on his head. Kurt makes a face. "Not my style, eh?" He smirks slyly, and before Kurt even knows what's happening, he takes the helmet off of himself and puts it on Kurt. "Much better!"

"Blaine." Kurt scoffs as Blaine turns on the fan. "Why is this necessary in life?" He asks flatly.

Blaine just giggles, honestly fucking giggles, and Kurt is having a lot of trouble hating him when he's so damn adorable. "I think it looks good on you."

"I think it's ruining my hair." Kurt removes the contraption and gently checks to make sure his hair is still immaculately upswept. "Now come on, we need to find something for Brittany and Santana." He rolls his eyes as Blaine sighs dramatically and goes to browse some more. "I knew we should've just gone to the plant store," Kurt grumbles to himself.

Kurt's inspecting something that claims to be a cordless personal massager and cringing internally at what he's sure Brittany and Santana would do with it when Blaine calls out again.

"Okay, seriously now, this is it. Kurt, come look!"

It's a karaoke machine. Of course it's a karaoke machine. That Blaine is firing up. In the middle of a crowded electronics store. "Blaine, really?"

Blaine pauses where he's hunched over trying to program the machine and fixes Kurt with a grave stare. "I never joke about karaoke, Kurt."

Kurt blinks in surprise. He didn't even know Blaine liked to sing. It sort of went against his whole cynical angel of death image. Either way, his obvious enthusiasm is a little endearing. And a karaoke machine actually isn't that bad of a gift idea. Kurt smiles a little, though Blaine is oblivious as he scrolls through the song selections.

"Aha!" A massive grin takes over Blaine's face as a familiar tune starts pumping through the speakers at an embarrassing volume. "I haven't heard this song in years." He picks up the microphone and stares straight at Kurt as he starts to sing. "You think I'm pretty without any makeup on..."

Kurt drops his face into his hands to hide his blush. God, he hasn't heard this song since he was in high school, and now Blaine is singing it to him in the middle of Brookstone. And he's really good. He even does a little two-step dance move that looks suspiciously pre-choreographed. After he's sung through the first chorus, he shoves the microphone at Kurt.

"Your turn!"

Kurt fumbles to take it and remember the lyrics at the same time, not stopping to think about how there are probably people staring and he hasn't sung in years and god his voice is still so high, because Blaine is grinning at him unabashedly, his whole face more bright than Kurt has seen it in weeks.

Blaine flashes him a surprised grin as his voice gets stronger, and Kurt blushes behind an answering smile. And then the smile is dropping so fast from Blaine's face that Kurt's not even sure it was there to begin with. Blaine's not even looking at him anymore. Instead, his gaze is fixed just beyond Kurt's shoulder. The song plays on, but Kurt stops singing, immediately self-conscious. "It's my voice, isn't it?" he says, still into the microphone. "God, everyone always hates my voice."

Blaine's eyes flicker back to his, dark and hollow, all traces of giddiness drained out. "It's Eli," he says quietly.

"Eli?" Kurt jumps at the sound of his own voice, still too loud through the karaoke speakers. He whips around and watches as a tall, sandy-haired man with bright green eyes approaches them, holding hands with another darker-skinned man, both of them looking slightly apprehensive.

Blaine swallows audibly, unable to tear his eyes from the pair. The green-eyed one, who Kurt assumes is Eli, gives Blaine a very obvious once over as he stops in front of them.

"Blaine," he says coolly. Eli's expression is carefully distant. He's smiling, technically, but his eyes are apathetic. "It's good to see you." His words carry about as much meaning as his eyes do. Kurt goes numb, too stunned to do anything other than stand dumbly at Blaine's side and watch it all unfold.

Blaine tries to smile but seems to get stuck halfway, and an uneasy grimace twists his mouth as he nods jerkily at Eli's words. "Yeah, you too." An uncomfortable silence lasts for an eternity before Eli is looking pointedly at Kurt and Blaine finds his voice again. "Oh! Eli, this is Kurt Hummel. Kurt, this is Eli Coulson." Kurt winces at the way Blaine's voice catches as he says his ex-husband's name.

He uncertainly extends his hand and nods once as Eli shakes it. "Nice to meet you."

Eli smiles flatly. "Likewise. And this is Xavier Simmons."

The man with Eli steps forward to shake hands with both Kurt and Blaine, mumbling pleasantries as he does so. When he steps away, Blaine stares down at his palm like he can't quite figure out why it's still attached to his arm.

"Well," Eli sighs, "it was a pleasure running into you, Blaine. Nice to meet you, Kurt." He takes Xavier's hand once again and starts to walk away, eyes hardening as he briefly meets Blaine's blank stare before finally turning his back.

And suddenly Kurt is painfully aware that the tinny background music of Teenage Dream is still resolutely blasting from the machine behind them.

Ten minutes later, they're standing outside of Brittany and Santana's and Kurt is carrying a rather cumbersome potted fern. Blaine hadn't protested as Kurt dragged him to the plant bodega just up the block from the new apartment. In fact, Blaine's been essentially catatonic, his golden eyes tired and hollow in the wake of his run-in with Eli.

"Are you okay?" Kurt asks finally. Before today, he'd never even seen a picture of Eli, and the reason is painfully obvious given the tiny crease between Blaine's thick eyebrows that won't smooth over.

Blaine sighs, but the tension doesn't leave his shoulders. "Yeah, I'm good. Let's just go."

Kurt decides not to push it any further, instead nodding and leading the way up the block to Brittany and Santana's.

They arrive in the middle of an argument. The girls barely acknowledge their presence as they lean toward each other over an excessively ugly coffee table shaped like a wagon wheel. Kurt exchanges a questioning look with Blaine before depositing the fern near the front door and moving in closer to their friends.

"Brit, it has character. And it was cheap. And it's an antique," Santana is saying, gesturing down at the table emphatically. Kurt can tell by the waver in her voice that she's struggling to stay as polite as possible.

Brittany's arms are crossed tightly over her chest as she regards the coffee table with obvious distaste. "Just because it's an antique doesn't mean it isn't ugly." She turns to Kurt with her eyebrows raised. "What do you think?"

Kurt, not wanting to get involved but also needing to express his professional opinion, wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. Santana scoffs. "Of course you would take her side. Blaine, what do you think?"

Blaine turns from where he had been staring absently out the window. He shrugs noncommittally. "It's nice." Kurt raises an eyebrow at him, but Blaine is looking out the window again.

Brittany and Santana continue arguing, but Kurt tunes them out. Simply put, he's worried about Blaine. He hasn't seen him this closed off since a few months prior when the divorce had been finalized. Since then, he's been happy. Or at least, he's been acting happy. Kurt knows that taking a different man to bed practically every night can't exactly be indicative of genuine contentment, but it seems to at least satisfy Blaine in some way. When he's with Kurt, he seems to be getting better. There's a little more light in his eyes than there was before. But all it took for that light to deaden again was one run-in with the man who ruined his life, and Kurt doesn't know how to fix it.

"I'm just trying to help you have good taste, San," Brittany is assuring her, squeezing her arm.

Santana pulls away gently. "I have good taste, Brit, I don't get what your problem is." She looks like she's about to say more, but Blaine cuts her off as he turns back around.

"You know, we started out like this. We had blank walls, we hung things. We picked out tiles and carpet samples." Blaine crosses his arms and moves in closer. "Then you know what happens? Six years later you're singing Teenage Dream in front of Xavier." His voice rises, eyes wild.

He turns back toward the window and Kurt follows. "Do we have to talk about this now?" he asks quietly, trying to search Blaine's face, but Blaine refuses to make eye contact.

"Yes, I think now is a perfect time to talk about this. I want out friends to benefit from my experience," he says, sarcasm biting through every word. He finally looks at Kurt, who almost flinches at the coldness in his gaze. Blaine turns back to Brittany and Santana as Kurt shakes his head. "Right now, everything seems perfect. You're in love and you're happy and that's great." He stalks over to a still-packed box and picks up a blue plate, brandishing it dangerously. "But one day you're going to be screaming at each other about this dish. This eight dollar dish will cost you thousands of dollars in phone calls to the Law Offices of That's Mine, This is Yours," he shouts.

"Blaine," Kurt warns.

Blaine holds up his hands. "Please. Brit, Santana, do yourselves a favor. Put your name in your books now so they don't get mixed up and you know whose is whose, because someday, believe it or not, you'll go fifteen rounds over who gets this coffee table." He points at it in disgust, voice rising with every word. "This ugly, stupid, garage sale coffee table!" He throws up his hands and starts for the door.

"I thought you liked it!" Santana calls after him.

Blaine stops abruptly with his hand on the doorknob. "I was being nice!" He yells back. The door slams behind him.

An eerie quiet falls over the three left in the room. Brittany and Santana look at each other and then look at Kurt, eyebrows raised.

Kurt sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "He just ran into Eli."

Brittany and Santana nod understandingly as Kurt follows Blaine outside. Once the door is closed behind him, Brittany pulls Santana into an embrace. "I want you to know," she says as Santana's eyes meet hers, "that I will never want that coffee table."

When Kurt walks out the front door, he finds Blaine leaning heavily on the porch railing. He looks up as Kurt approaches and sighs. "I know, I know. I shouldn't have said anything."

Kurt shakes his head and looks out at the bustling sidewalk. "Blaine, you have to get better at not expressing every emotion that you have every moment that you have them."

Blaine looks at him steadily. "Oh, really?"

"Yes. Time and place, Blaine. It's important."

Blaine straightens up. "Well, next time you're going to give a lecture on social norms, let me know and I'll sign up," he snaps, eyes narrowed. He walks down the porch steps, rolling his eyes as Kurt follows.

Kurt is trying his level best not to get annoyed, but it's not working. "Hey, you don't have to take this out on me."

Blaine turns on him again. "Oh, I think I'm entitled to be angry with you, especially when you're telling me how to feel things. You're not exactly the expert in that field, you know."

Kurt's eyes go wide. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Blaine scoffs. "It means that nothing bothers you! Not once in the past year have I ever heard you mention Adam. Don't you ever think about him? Does he mean nothing to you?" Kurt rolls his eyes and walks angrily back up the stairs, but Blaine isn't finished. "And if you're so over him, how come you haven't seen anyone yet?"

"I see people!" Kurt protests, voice going shrill.

"You know what I mean. When was the last time you slept with someone?"

Kurt narrows his eyes coolly. "Oh, so that's what'll prove I'm over Adam? When I fuck someone?" Blaine blinks, taken aback, but Kurt doesn't stop. "I don't see how fucking everyone that moves is making Eli a distant memory for you. And besides, I will make love to someone when it is making love, not the way you do it, like you're out for revenge or something!" He's breathing hard, his heart racing wildly, and Blaine's eyes are still frozen wide, his jaw dropped ever so slightly.

"Are you finished?" Blaine asks, his voice softer.

His tone takes the fight out of Kurt. He blinks against the angry tears that had sprung up in the corners of his eyes. "Yes."

"Can I say something?"

Kurt looks at him and sees sincerity in his eyes. "Yes."

Blaine's eyebrows knit together. "I'm sorry," he says earnestly, pulling Kurt into a tight hug.

Kurt goes willingly, breathing in the familiar spice of Blaine's cologne. They sway together briefly on the porch before separating and smiling sheepishly at each other. It feels better, now that it's all out. Best friends are supposed to fight like that. Kurt sees a hint of a twinkle flash back into Blaine's eyes as he squeezes his hand and pulls him back toward the door.

Just as they're about to go back in, Santana bursts outside, struggling to drag the giant wagon wheel from the inside of the coffee table along with her. She's grumbling to herself in what sounds like Spanish as she yanks it out the door. She spots Kurt and Blaine staring and levels a lethal gaze at them. "Don't say a word."