“…and then suddenly, this woman in the most gorgeous pantsuit comes up to me and hands me her business card.”

Kurt's certain this has to be a dream, because there's no way this can be happening. He's been psyching himself up for this ever since they first started practising their final routine and he thought that he'd accepted this was endgame – somewhere in between the screams of Sue Sylvester doesn't coach losers and you think this is hard? Try bench-pressing a neutron star, that's hard! – but Kurt can honestly say that it never really sank in.

Kurt just kind of freezes up for all of thirty seconds after the announcement comes and then suddenly, he has his arms full of Brittany, surrounded by cheering girls, all practically bouncing on the spot.

“We did it!” Brittany cries into his ear and Kurt just pauses and thinks, yeah. We did it.

They won.

He won.

He won the national cheerleading championships. He, after only starting cheerleading earlier that year, is recognised as being one of the top twenty cheerleaders in the country.

It feels great. Hell, it feels fantastic.

When he manages to detach himself from the crowd, he feels weightless, like he's drifting, until suddenly, there's a hand on his shirt, tugging him back. Kurt's head snaps up and he zeroes in the camera in front of him. There's a microphone in his face, and someone – he doesn't know who this guy is – is demanding to know his thoughts.

Kurt allows himself to grin, full and bright, before he declares, “Vive la différence!” and punctuates it with a high-kick.

Santana and Brittany find him not soon after, both of them pulling him in for a hug. He knows this isn't their first victory, but winning's always been addictive, and the mantra still twists in his head. We did it. We did it. We did it.

He's still dancing around with them when someone taps him on his shoulder.

“Excuse me?”

Kurt turns around.

Stood in front of him, surprisingly well-composed in amongst all of the chaos of the Cheerios' win, is a woman in a crisp pantsuit.

“Theresa Banks,” she says, holding out her hand for Kurt to shake.

Somewhat perplexed, Kurt takes the proffered hand. “Kurt Hummel,” he says.

“It's a pleasure,” Theresa says.

“Can we make this quick?” Kurt asks. “Because I kind of have to get back to,” he gestures behind him, at the rest of his squad.

“Sure,” Theresa readily agrees, before she digs into her handbag and withdraws a business card. “So, Kurt, I was wondering – have you ever considered modelling?”

Kurt tries – and fails – not to gape.

It's three weeks later when Kurt finally calls the number on the card.

Modelling has always seemed a bit self-indulgent to Kurt – a necessary part of the fashion industry, but not one he agrees with. There's something so passive about it and, to a performer like Kurt, just posing in front of a camera seems kind of… It seems easy and cheap.

What's not easy and cheap, though, is keeping to his budget. And there's a really cute jacket he saw online that he really, really wants, and his hours at the garage only cover so much, so.

“Uh, is this Theresa Banks? … Yeah, this is Kurt Hummel. We met at the National Cheerleading Championships—?”

Kurt takes a deep breath.

“That's actually why I was calling…”

It's only four days later – after an awful lot of work on persuading his dad to let him do this, and an awful lot of pleading and grovelling during that process – that Kurt finds out just whose clothes he's supposed to be wearing.

And then he understands.

Modelling isn't about being passive. It's about wearing the clothes and wearing their personality for a camera.

He doesn't mind it so much after all.

“…the first ad, tentatively titled ‘First Sight'…”

Blaine swears when he sees the time on his pocket watch. He's supposed to have been down in the Commons five minutes ago for their last pre-sectionals impromptu performance and Wes is going to kill him. Not just kill him, though – because that Blaine could live with – but flay him alive and hang him by his breaches in the main atrium and then kill him.

And Blaine is pretty sure ‘I lost track of time doing Latin homework' isn't going to suffice as a suitable excuse, fascinating as Quintus' tale of self-discovery may be.

So Blaine does the only thing he can in the circumstances. He runs.

As he pelts it down the oak-paved hallways, Blaine tries not to think about the fact that he's breaking nearly four Dalton school rules just doing that, and concentrates on making it to the Commons without being too out of breath.

When he reaches the main staircase, Blaine checks the time on his pocket watch and practically collapses in relief. From here, he can take his favourite short-cut, and, if luck's on his side, make it there before it's too—

“Excuse me?”

Blaine grits his teeth when he feels the hand on his shoulder. He's going to be late, OK? Can't it wait? But Blaine's far too polite to just continue running, so he casts one last look at his pocket watch and turns around and—

Whoa.

There's no way this guy goes to Dalton. Blaine would know if that were the case, because, holy hell is this guy hot. And just a tiny bit familiar…

“Can I ask you a question?” the other guy asks, and his voice is kind of melodic.

Blaine remembers to shut his mouth and politely sticks out his hand. “Oh,” he says. “Sure. I'm Blaine.”

“Kurt.”

And it hits him. Kurt. Kurt Hummel. Of course.

“I know,” Blaine blurts, before he realises what he's doing. When Kurt gapes at him, Blaine hurries to expand, because didn't that just sound stalker-ish? “You're kind of a big deal in the fashion world,” he explains.

Kurt's ears flush red. Huh. It's kind of ador—

Don't finish that thought, Anderson.

“In that case,” Kurt asks nervously, “I don't suppose there's any chance you'd believe I was new here?”

Blaine affects an easy grin. “Not really.”

Kurt's face falls, just a fraction, and maybe, if Blaine hadn't been watching him so intently he would have missed it. Something twists in Blaine's stomach, because he has no clue what's going on, but Kurt needs help. He doesn't need a fanboy.

“I guess I'll just,” Kurt breaks off. “I'll go.”

Blaine remembers when he needed help. How he wished someone would notice. He dealt with it, of course, because that's what Blaine does – he runs and picks himself up and puts himself together – but he kind of wishes that wasn't the case. He wishes that there's be someone there, someone to pick him up, someone to help fix him.

So, it's not that Blaine doesn't know why he does it – because he does – but he finds himself reaching out and catching Kurt's arm. “You can stay,” he says earnestly.

Kurt blinks at him, somewhat taken aback.

Say something, say something, say something—

Blaine's phone buzzes in his breast-pocket and it hits him like a freight train. Wes. Shit.

And just like that, inspiration comes to him. “Hey, wanna see something cool?” he asks.

Kurt stares at him, before he silently nods.

“Great, because we really need go.” Blaine grabs Kurt's hand. “I mean, I know a shortcut, but I'm still going to be late if we don't hurry…”

Modelling isn't easy.

His grades haven't suffered – there's no way his father would let him keep it up if that were the case – and it's not like his school attendance has fallen apart, but.

But everything else has.

Mercedes still isn't speaking to him and he's already gotten over three lectures from Rachel about ‘splitting his focus' and ‘letting Glee become an afterthought.' He doesn't have time for cheerleading anymore and with the uniform, his limited social security has also disappeared.

People seem to mediate between letting Kurt become invisible and obnoxiously staring at him. It's no longer merely did you hear about Kurt – he's gay, but did you hear about Kurt Hummel – he's some kind of anorexic freak model, and Kurt's finding it really hard to deal. He's never been ignored before, but this… This just kind of makes him want to, for once, tone everything down.

Then there's Karofsky.

If Kurt ever had any delusions that he might be more accepted or something now that his face has been plastered over a double-page spread in Vogue, they were completely obliterated on the first day back when Karofsky threw a slushie into his face. But it's not just slushies anymore. It's almost terrifying stares from across a crowded hallway; it's locker slams and all-too-close confrontations. It's forced kisses in empty locker rooms and death threats whispered in his ear.

Going to Dalton isn't really about spying for the New Directions. It would almost be less pathetic if it were, but for Kurt, it's more about not losing faith that someplace – somewhere out there – things are better. That although it may not be Lima, there is a place, a school, where people would accept him.

So, Dalton's not about spying.

It's not even about the Gay School Rumours.

It's just about a dream.

The dream hurts, though, when Kurt finds that it's not a fantasy; it's real. It's real and he can never have it.

But, right now, Kurt doesn't have to think about the outside. He can just be here, smiling shyly, surrounded by blazer-clad boys, finally, finally feeling like one of the crowd.

And when Blaine sings his heart out to Kurt, Kurt lets himself melt a bit inside. He feels somehow lighter almost.

Strange that.

“Blaine Anderson. He autographed my coffee cup. It says ‘Courage –Blaine'.”

It keeps him going through each day.

Kurt guesses that Blaine must have some sort of freaky sixth sense, because he always seems to know when Kurt's feeling like it's all too much and then, suddenly—

COURAGE –Blaine

Kurt doesn't feel so alone anymore. He's taken to driving to Westerville after school and meeting Blaine there for coffee, or sometimes just a bottle of water, or sometimes just Blaine.

They talk. About everything, really, and it's strange, but Kurt feels closer to Blaine after barely two weeks than he does to any of the New Directions kids he's known for almost two years. The drives are long and tiring, but Kurt finally feels like he can keep moving, like he's not just drifting anymore.

Blaine grounds him. He makes Kurt slow-down, stop and just feel.

And then everything comes crashing down.

One second, his father is getting married, and it's going to be amazing, and the next, Burt has his arm against Karofsky's throat, and God, Dad, stop it! You're sick! Then, they're in the principal's office and Kurt's hearing that age-old phrase – the one that just makes him feel sick: “My hands are tied, Mr Hummel.”

Next thing Kurt knows, he's no longer a McKinley High student. He's joining Dalton as soon as the paperwork goes through.

“Oh, Blainers, no matter what you do, with fashion and perfume ads, to me, you will always be the guy who serenaded his sweetheart in GAP.”

“I don't think I've ever been this embarrassed, and given that I used to perform at theme parks, that's saying something.”

Kurt closes his eyes, trying to swallow the hurt. Stupid, stupid, stupid Kurt. This was never anything more than friendship and it was stupid of you to think so. You're a friend. A friend.

“It's OK, Blaine,” Kurt says, and he's proud of how even his voice comes out. He thinks it must be the modelling work that's sculpting him into a better actor, because he can suddenly carve his features into a mask at a seconds notice. It's made Dalton easier – made blending in to the background and not trying so hard almost effortless.

As he drops into a chair at what has quickly become ‘their' table, Blaine buries his face in his hands. “It's not OK,” he says. “I got him fired, Kurt. Fired.”

Kurt sighs and sinks into the free chair opposite Blaine. “He won't get fired, Blaine,” he tries to reassure, but Blaine just shakes his head.

“He will,” he says. “I mean, sure, they won't say it's because he's gay, but at the end of the day…” Blaine tips his head back, eyes searching the ceiling as if for some answer. “I just… I can't believe I made this all up in my head.”

Kurt smiles sadly at Blaine. “It'll be OK,” he insists.

Jeremiah doesn't get fired, Kurt finds out later, but he does quit. Kurt can't quite find it in himself to feel guilty about that.

The GAP ATTACK, as they have come to call it, does have one other effect, though.

“I'll – I'll think about it,” Blaine stammers, face pale and knuckles white around the phone. He hangs up, looking shaken and just a bit apprehensive.

Kurt quirks his eyebrow at Blaine from above his magazine. “You OK?” he asks calmly.

Blaine runs a hand through his hair. “That was the head of advertising for GAP,” Blaine admits. He takes a deep breath and then blurts out, “Theywantmetostarinacommercialforthem.” He runs all of the words into one and it takes a while for Kurt to decode the jumble of syllables into a coherent statement.

“Huh,” is Kurt's eloquent reply when he's made sense of what Blaine said. “What are you going to do?”

Blaine shrugs, before falling into the spare seat next to Kurt on the leather couch. “I said I'd think about it, but,” he shakes his head. “I don't know, Kurt.”

Kurt opens his mouth to speak, but Blaine cuts across him. “I know you're probably more knowledgeable about the industry than I am Kurt,” he says, “but that's the thing. I really just don't know. I just – I need to think about it.”

Kurt sighs, then shuts his magazine. He can see Blaine's mind whirring at the action, because hell, that was Vogue Kurt was reading. This shit just got real.

“Tell me what you're thinking,” Kurt says, staring deeply into Blaine's eyes.

Blaine does.

Kurt's a good listener, at least he is when he's not fighting for attention. So he sits there with Blaine and sifts through all of the other boy's innermost concerns with a delicate finesse. He tries not to shove his belief on Blaine – that Blaine should go for it – but he honestly thinks that's what Blaine should do.

And he can't exactly lie when faced with the frank question of, “What do you think I should do?”

Eventually, after their loss at Regionals, Blaine does go for it. Of course, there's about two hours of freaking out before filming and recording starts, during which Kurt is pretty sure Blaine's breaking his hand, he's gripping it so hard, but when he gets up there and loses himself in the song, dancing around with a smile on his face, Blaine doesn't look nervous at all.

He looks … hot.

By that point, Kurt and Blaine have started dating, and it makes Kurt feel kind of giddy that he's allowed to think that now, allowed to tell Blaine that now… And if Blaine's really looking at Kurt every time he sings the line, “But I won't hesitate, no more, no more; it cannot wait, I'm yours…”

Well, that's allowed too.

The commercial first airs when Kurt's in New York for Nationals with the New Directions, and he knows it's a success almost the second he hears some of his competitors singing the song as part of their warm-up.

When Kurt gets back to Ohio, the reality of the situation sets in.

It's not just a success; it's a smash hit.

But that's not all.

Blaine loves him.

So no, frighteningly mortifying as it was at the time, Kurt doesn't look back on the GAP ATTACK (or rather GAP ATTACK MK 1, as they now call it) with bitter resentment. Everything worked out in the end, strange as that may be. Kurt got Blaine and Blaine…

Blaine got Kurt and that 50% discount he was after, after all.

“@BlaineAnderson The best thing about making commercials for Starbucks? These ads may just make everyone forget my earlier ventures in TV advertising...

@BlaineAnderson And @KurtHummel. Almost forgot that.”

There is a moment for Blaine when he realises just how close he is to falling apart.

Blaine has always wished that he was the kind of person that came to realisations gently. It must be nice, he thinks, to have time to come to terms with things, to ease yourself into new beliefs. That's not how it works for him.

Realisations tend to completely blind-side Blaine. Realising that it's not just not okay to be gay in Ohio, but it's also not safe hit Blaine with all the force of a brutal kick to the ribs. Realising that he' in love with Kurt hit Blaine like a freight train.

Realising that he's really not OK is kind of exactly the same.

It's hard to be so far away from Kurt all the time – Blaine knows this. Long distance is never easy, and it's especially not easy for the two of them. Kurt's trying to balance full-time modelling in New York with college work and Blaine's trying to juggle becoming the face of GAP with finishing high school with a relatively acceptable report card. They're both so fully scheduled they barely have time to say goodnight over the phone before they drop off into sleep at the end of each day.

There are times when Blaine feels pitifully lonely. There are people all around him, but never Kurt.

It hits him in history with Mr Hallerth, a teacher with the most monotonous voice Blaine has ever heard, at 14:17 on a Wednesday afternoon, when he's usually staring at the clock and struggling to keep his eyes open. It's not that Blaine's not interested, but Dalton's curriculum was a little bit more advanced and he's kind of already done the first and second world wars to death. Normally, Blaine doodles, or texts – anything to prevent him from drifting off.

Lately, however, he's been spending his free moments in the classroom on his phone, facebooking this guy he met online. OK, granted, it's not the smartest thing to do, but Eli's smart and funny, and—

Hey, wanna come over?

He almost says yes.

Blaine's not an idiot. He knows what hey, wanna come over really means. He knows it's not going to be an innocent meeting of minds; he thinks maybe that's why he even accepted Eli's friend request – as some sort of twisted safety net in case his relationship with Kurt falls through.

He almost says yes.

Since when did Kurt stop being endgame for Blaine? Since when did he ever need a safety net? Since when could there ever be anyone else?

Things are really not okay.

He's struggling to stay afloat. He's not driven and focused – he's miserable and looking for distraction. He can't—

He can't do this.

And so, at 14:19, in history with Mr Hallerth, the monotonous drone of the teacher's voice still thronging in the air, Blaine stands up and walks out of the classroom. No explanation, or apology – he just leaves.

Blaine crosses the car park and gets into his car and drives.

Somewhere in between the sixth where ARE you, dude? from various members of the New Directions and the fifth call from Tina, Blaine turns off his phone.

He's on the next flight to New York City.

Kurt and Blaine spend the entire night that day talking.

That's always been what Blaine thought was the greatest thing about their relationship: they're completely and utterly at ease with each other. Baring vulnerability to Kurt is like breathing to Blaine. It feels natural; it feels right.

They end up curled in each other's arms, a tentative peace reached between them.

Blaine's never been so sure as he is then that this – Kurt, New York, Kurt… That this is what he wants.

When Blaine announces to the New Directions that he's going to be finishing the rest of his senior year in New York with Kurt, he's met with mixed reactions. Sam meets him with awkward encouragement and his “Whoo! It's my best friend – moving to New York!” seems a bit stilted, but Blaine appreciates the effort all the same. Mr Schue pulls him aside and asks him in over three different ways if he's sure that this is really what he wants, okay,Blaine?

Tina doesn't really react at all; she just smiles sadly.

“I'm not too surprised,” she admits. “I kind of expected this.”

Blaine furrows his brows at her and she shrugs her shoulders heavily.

“I mean,” she explains. “It's always been obvious, hasn't it? You and Kurt? You're kind of endgame.”

And then, Blaine smiles too, because yeah. Kurt's not just his endgame; Blaine is Kurt's as well.

“I think everyone here is missing something. Blaine's not gay, remember?”

Blaine doesn't even realise that he's hiding his sexuality until an article is published speculating on his ‘relationship' with one of the female models he recently worked with.

Kurt finds it hilarious – and honestly, Blaine's kind of glad he's not finding it hurtful instead – and has the article framed and hangs it up in their living room. Eventually, Kurt admits that it's kind of an ego-trip for him. They think Blaine's with her, drop-dead gorgeous that she is, and instead Blaine's with Kurt, who, let's face it, is far more fabulous.

They don't really talk about it until Blaine lets it slip that he had an obsession with Mulan in his childhood to an interviewer.

By this point, Blaine's amassed something of a legendary following, which rivals Kurt's in both the number and tenacity of its members. He and Kurt are seen as the crème de la crème of young models, and there's already speculation of some sort of rivalry between the two of them.

Still, neither of them talk about the other in an interview until Mulan happens.

It starts with Mulan, admittedly, but it eventually culminates when Kurt makes a biting and distant statement to the press:

“Blaine Anderson?” A dismissive snort. “Blaine's definitely very handsome. I'll give him that.”

When it's quoted, it sounds like Kurt's paying him a compliment. In person, it sounds spiteful and derisive.

They argue about it – their first argument since… since Blaine can't even remember – and it quickly degrades from a heated debate into a shouting match. It's sometimes the worst thing about their relationship: the arguing. It doesn't happen often, but when they do, they both know how to hit each other where it hurts.

“I get it,” Blaine spits bitterly. “You have some sort of problem with me, and fine, whatever, but instead of coming and talking to me about it, like I don't know? A functional couple? Instead of that, you slag me off to the press. What the fuck's up with that, Kurt?”

Kurt just glares at him defiantly. “What's up with that?” he asks, choking back a laugh. “What's up with that is every single time you're asked about me, you just fucking deflect. It's like I don't even fucking exist, Blaine, like you're ashamed of me.”

Suddenly, Blaine feels himself go on the defensive. “I'm not ashamed of us, Kurt,” he shoots back heatedly, “or ashamed of me, like you seem to be.”

“Not ashamed?” Kurt chokes out incredulously. “Not ashamed? You're perfectly happy to chat for days about your childhood, your family, your freakin' Mulan obsession, but as soon as the topic of romance comes up, you're scurrying back into the closet and slamming the door shut behind you. If you're not ashamed of me, what the hell am I supposed to think, then, huh, Blaine?”

“Maybe think that I don't like spreading my private life over the press?” Blaine demands. “Or that I like having something that's private and mine – not anyone else's?”

“Or maybe you're just a coward.”

As soon as the words leave Kurt's mouth, he knows he's gone too far. He knows why he said it as well, and that just makes it worse. Kurt's always known how to hurt people with words – it saved him in high school – and he knows Blaine better than anyone else. This is the one thing that he knows will cripple Blaine each time, the one thing Blaine's absolutely set on leaving behind him.

Cowardice.

Kurt knows it's not true. But he always knows that no matter how many times he tells Blaine that, it's only ever going to take one statement to the contrary from him to rip it apart.

“Oh, God, Blaine, I'm so—” Kurt starts, but Blaine cuts him off.

“No,” Blaine says, voice rough. “You're right. I am a coward.”

“Blaine,” Kurt starts once more, but Blaine just shakes his head.

“I need some time to think,” he excuses himself, before turning and walking out of the apartment without another word.

Alone in the tiny one bedroom complex, Kurt sinks to the floor and wonders how the hell he's going to fix this.

Their resolution hits the internet two days later, when Blaine's seen laughing on camera.

“Kurt and I have a lot in common, and it's great to have someone to relate to in this industry.”

There's a lot of stuff in between – heartfelt apologies, and heated making-ups, and desperately clawing at each other because they're not losing this – and they're not perfect, but they're good and for Blaine and Kurt, good's always been good enough.

Kurt's own reply comes once more two days after that:

“Blaine Anderson?” An airy laugh. “You guys just don't get tired of asking me about him, do you? Nah, I stand by what I said before.” An affectionate smile. “Blaine is definitely very good looking, yeah – I'll give him that.”

The call comes at nine am one day.

Normally, Kurt and Blaine would be up-and-at-'em barely seconds past daybreak, and then proceeding to power through the day on sheer will-power and caffeine alone, but they both had late-night shoots the night before and right now, all they want to do is wrap the duvet closer around them and lose themselves in the warmth.

“You make me feel like I'm livin' a teenage dream!” cries Blaine's phone, cutting through the soft silence.

“Turn it off,” Kurt mumbles half-incoherently into his pillow, pulling the blankets tighter around himself.

Blaine blearily rubs his eyes and reaches for the phone. “It's Artie,” he states, reading the caller ID.

“Don't care,” Kurt groans. “Turn it off.”

Blaine rolls his eyes and answers it anyway. “Hello?”

Kurt groans yet again and rolls over, burying his head into the pillow.

Blaine listens to Artie jabbering on the other end of the phone, talking a mile a minute, until—

“You did what?!”

Kurt whips his head around to glare at Blaine, but Blaine is too far engrossed in the phone call by this point to apologise.

“OK, OK, OK, stop freaking out,” Blaine says soothingly. “I'll talk to Kurt. Yes – he's just here. Wait a moment.” Blaine holds his hand over the phone as he turns to Kurt. “It's Artie,” Blaine starts, and Kurt rolls his eyes.

“Give it here,” Kurt demands and Blaine obediently hands over the phone. “What do you want, Artie?” he asks, sounding both tired and exasperated.

“Kurt, hey, I hope I didn't wake you,” Artie sounds somewhat apologetic, so Kurt decides to let it slide.

“You did, but go on,” Kurt states dryly.

“Well, you know like a month ago, Starbucks ran that competition, right?” Artie asks. “It was to design and come up with an advertisement campaign for them to air on TV, and, uh, Britt and I entered.”

“I'm failing to see what the emergency is, Artie,” Kurt intones.

“Ah. Well, before I go on, can I just say that we really didn't expect to win—”

“Cut to the chase, Artie.”

“We used you and Blaine for the adverts,” Artie blurts out.

Kurt freezes. Then un-freezes. “What.” It comes out flat and unimpressed, which seems to make Artie panic more.

“Uh, Britt and I just, well, we thought about like, the Nescafe Gold couple, and then we thought of you and Blaine and how you guys practically fell in love over coffee, given all the time you spent at the Lima Bean, and so we kind of used your story as the basis for a commercial drama?” Artie pauses, then continues to babble at record pace. “I mean, like I said, we really didn't think we'd win – I mean, a gay couple in a bunch of mainstream ads would be kind of controversial, but it would make all the right statements for the kind of groove of directing I want to head into, and Britt was really confused for like a minute because she kept trying to draw dolphins and unicorns on the storyboards before she got the real plot, but then we got a call and it turns out that we won. I mean, I practically fainted from shock, and right now, the apartment's not a great place to be because Brittany and Santana are having really loud celebratory sex in the living room, and this project's going to be amazing, because they actually want to make these ads, Kurt, and you have no idea how important these are going to be and, and, and...” he trails off.

Artie seems to have run out of steam, because there's only silence on both ends of the phone for a few moments.

“I'm not mad,” Kurt says slowly. “And I really think you're best off calling me when I'm more awake, but I think I know what you're going to ask.”

“...And you'll say?”

“I'll think about it,” Kurt hedges, even though he knows what he's going to say. “I have to talk to Blaine.”

But Kurt kind of knows what Blaine's going to say too.

They say yes. Of course they say yes.

What starts off as Artie turning Blaine and Kurt's love story into a string of adverts turns into a full-on reunion. Quinn volunteers herself to write the script, Rachel agrees to cameo (as herself, coincidentally), and Sam steps up to play one of the baristas. Mike takes the roll of a customer and even Mr Schue puts aside a weekend to drive down and visit ‘his kids' on set. Kurt doesn't even want to think about how Puck ended up as their cameraman, or why Tina's styling his hair, or how Mercedes wrangled one of her songs onto the soundtrack for the adds, but having them all there, all supporting one another makes things easier in a sense.

Wes and David, even though they're not New Directions members, and neither of them are even working in the filming or modelling industry, pop in one day to play themselves, and Kurt loves the way Blaine's face lights up at the sight of the two ex-Warblers.

Even if Wes ruffles Kurt's hair, commenting that their favourite countertenor was all grown up.

(And David says his ‘endearing spy' line with the exact same inflection as all those years ago, and seriously, it kind of creeps Kurt out a bit.)

Sometimes, when Kurt and Blaine drag themselves home after an exhausting day on set, pretending to be pre-Kurt-and-Blaine Kurt and Blaine, Kurt reflects on how scary it is that he doesn't find it hard to slip back into his old self.

But it's okay, because he has Blaine.

And then it's not.

“There have been rumours, ladies and gents, ever since the infamous Chronicles of Coffee started to air, that maybe this subject matter was of a more personal standing for both the main leads.”

It's not a new argument.

Blaine gets it. Kurt's out. He's not.

But it's really not that simple.

Blaine can't even remember what started the argument, or what they yelled at each other across their apartment, and, all things considered, he guesses he should be thankful for that. He and Kurt tend to get pretty vindictive when they fight, but the worst part about this one is that everything Kurt says is true.

There aren't even any cheap shots this time. It's just Kurt, Blaine, and a horrible amount of brutal honesty.

Realisations tend to blindside Blaine.

This one smacks him in the face almost the moment he leaves his apartment in anger, slamming the door in Kurt's face.

He wants out.

Not of Kurt, because God, they're so freakishly co-dependent now that that would break him, but out. Out of the closet.

When realisations hit Blaine, the last thing he ever does is think rationally. He generally just acts, like kissing Kurt, like flying to New York, like getting shitfaced at the closest Gay Bar he can find.

The next morning, when all Blaine wants to do is crawl into a hole and die, because his head hurts and there's a warm body beside him and shit, did he cheat on Kurt? Oh God, he can't have. He'd never. He can't do this, not right now, not when everything could be fine, because he loves Kurt and—

Blaine freezes in the embrace and slowly turns his head, breathing a sigh of hot relief when he sees Kurt's sleeping face beside him.

He never wants to wake up to anyone else, Blaine realises.

He's going to marry this man. He's always been going to marry this man.

Blaine's terrible at realisations and even worse at impulse control, but, despite his setbacks, once he knows what he wants, he's very, very good at getting there, through either tenacity alone or pure force of will.

And he wants Kurt to marry him.

He knows what he has to do.

Watching Ellen. Waiting for Blaine.

Gah, his dancing is adorable. It hasn't changed since the GAP ATTACK.

WHO SENT HIM HATE MAIL? WHO? ITS LIKE KICKING A PUPPY, FUCKERS.

Ellen and Blaine are facebook friends? I sense a fic coming on…

Guys, he's on Tumblr. AND HE KNOWS WHAT KLAINE IS! LIFE: COMPLETE.

Oh. My. Holy. Fucking. God.

Am I dreaming? Somebody hold me.

Did that legitimately just happen?

PLEASE SOMEONE TELL ME I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO HEARD THAT!!!!!1!!11111!

“That's because we are.”

I CAN'T TELL WHAT'S GOING ON THERE'S TOO MUCH SCREAMING BUT I THINK IT MUST BE GOOD OH MY GOD DID THAT JUST HAPPEN??!??!?!!?

When the screams die down, Ellen tentatively removes her fingers from her ears. “Ow,” she says. “I think you guys just ruptured my eardrums.”

Blaine laughs shakily. “So, I guess you guys didn't know about that?” he asks sheepishly.

He suddenly feels uncomfortable, and almost wishes that he could snatch the admission right back, pretend like he's never said it, but then the relief sets in. He doesn't have to hide anymore. He doesn't have to hide anymore.

It feels fantastic, and Blaine feels himself relaxing again.

“I think that's safe to assume,” Ellen agrees drily.

Blaine laughs. “Sorry, I guess,” he apologises.

Ellen shrugs. “So, how long has this all been going on?” she asks.

“Several years,” Blaine answers, before totalling up the maths. “This November will actually be the fifth year anniversary of when we met, and we got together the March after that, so just over four years.”

“That's a long time,” Ellen comments. “So you must have met in high school?”

Blaine thinks back to the winding staircase, to his pocket watch, to Kurt. “Yeah,” he says, and sue him if his voice comes out a little dreamy.

“We're really not going to be talking about your commercials now are we?” Ellen asks jokingly, before throwing her question cards down.

Blaine surprises everyone by shrugging calmly. “We still can, if you want,” he says. “I mean, they're kind of about Kurt and me, in a way.”

“In a way?” Ellen prompts.

“OK,” Blaine admits with a  smile. “Not really in a way. Those commercials… They're a love story. It's a love story that's always been close to my heart, because, well…”

A pause. Silence.

“It's mine.”

This time, both Blaine and Ellen are fully prepared for the deafening screams.

Watching Blaine for the first few seconds after he says it is kind of heart-breaking. He's just like, “That's because we are,” and then he sort of starts to freak out, like he didn't mean to say that, and then, he sort of breaks through it all and smiles, like he's so freaking pleased to finally say it.

We overuse this word so much when talking about him, but Blaine is just fucking adorable.

FOUR YEARS. FOUR YEARS, GUYS. HOW DID NO ONE FIGURE THIS OUT??????!!!

WAIT. WAIT. The commercials are kind of about him and Kurt? In more than the gay love story in conservative town sense????

HOLY SHITTING MOTHER OF GOD. BLAINE ANDERSON, YOU COMPLETE AND UTTER—
I JUST CAN'T.

I don't even know what to say. I'm seriously contemplating turning my TV off, because if Blaine drops one more bombshell tonight, I think I'm going to go into cardiac arrest.

IT'S HIS LOVE STORY???

I don't even know what to do anymore. I think I'll just go sit in this corner and cry, OK?

Just watch him as he talks about Kurt. Every single time Blaine says his name, his entire expression just shifts.

I think I just found my RL OTP.

Kurt doesn't find out what his boyfriend told Ellen until he's sat on the couch, watching it on TV, a bowl of Cheerios (he was feeling nostalgic, OK?) in his lap. When TV-Blaine visibly stills, taking a deep breath, and then admits softly, “That's because we are,” Kurt very nearly sprays his mouthful of wholegrain goodness across the couch. Then, he hurries to hit mute, because holy shit, those screams are loud.

He knows he should be pissed.

This should have been a decision they made together, he knows. They should have talked about it together, wrote a statement together and done an interview together.

He doesn't care.

It was never about him, Kurt realises. Keeping everything secret was never something he wanted – it was something he put up with for Blaine – and the clandestine nature of their relationship was slowly ripping apart years and years of stability.

Kurt came to that realisation gently. Blaine? Well, he never seems to realise things until they're staring him in the face. And then… Well, then Blaine does something horrendously stupid and romantic all at the same time.

It's in Blaine's nature. The grand romantic gesture. It's always been what Blaine does, because, despite his protests to the contrary all those years ago, Blaine's fantastic at romance.

He should be pissed at Blaine. He isn't.

Sure, maybe he will be later, and maybe he'll use it to wheedle a truly amazing romantic date out of Blaine, but he really doesn't care, deep down.

Because this is so very Blaine.

And Blaine?

Well, Kurt's going to marry him someday.

END

(Later, at their wedding, someone will approach Artie and ask why he risked his entire career on a set of commercials with such a controversial content to them. Artie will shrug, because it wasnt really all that great a risk. "Its Klaine," hell explain. "Everybody ships it.")