Epilogue: Truth, Beauty, Freedom, and Love

The unmistakable sound of televised baseball is filtering in from the living room, and Kurt would normally find it annoying, but right now he has more important matters on his mind. In fact, he's kind of freaking out. His heart is pumping in double time, his hands are unsteady, and it's like his hair is deflating literally every time he turns his back to the mirror. He sighs, loudly, and he reaches for the extra-strong-hold spray he saves for emergencies. This much, at least, he can control.

"Nervous?"

He doesn't even have it in him to roll his eyes.

"Understatement."

Blaine smiles and moves to wrap his arms around Kurt's waist from behind. He hooks his chin over Kurt's shoulder and nuzzles playfully into his neck.

"You'd better not forget me in your acceptance speech."

Kurt grasps Blaine's hands where they're clasped against his stomach. He finds Blaine's eyes in the mirror.

"Back at you."

"I would never."

Kurt smiles, his affection bursting out at the seams. He cranes his neck for a quick, sweet kiss before letting go and patting at Blaine's hands.

"Now unhand me so I can fix my hair."

Blaine complies, eyeing him skeptically.

"I don't know, Kurt – if your hair goes any higher, it will literally be vertical. Don't you think it might be time to put the hairspray down?"

"Don't even talk to me about hair product, Blaine Anderson. Your natural texture hasn't seen the light of day since before I met you. How would you feel if I told you to lighten up on the gel?"

Blaine frowns, and runs a self-conscious hand over his hair.

"You always tell me it makes me look debonair."

"I'm just saying."

"Okay, fine, point taken. But, for the record, you look amazing. The camera will love you no matter how well your hair defies gravity."

His so will I goes unspoken, but Kurt hears it anyway, in the timbre of his voice. He turns away from his reflection to look at Blaine, really look at him, for the first time this evening. He's dressed and ready, handsome and dashing and every bit the leading man. He'd fit in seamlessly on any red carpet in town. Or, no, actually, more than just fit in – Blaine has never been built to blend, and this is no different. He'll own that red carpet.

Kurt leans in to brush his fingers gently through Blaine's carefully-styled quiff, loosening up the gel just enough to make it look less effortful.

"I can't let you put me completely to shame," he flirts.

Blaine grins, and pulls Kurt in for a smacking kiss. He opens his mouth to say something that was probably going to be flirty or sappy or wicked, but he's interrupted by a pointed throat-clearing from the doorway.

"I was wondering what was taking you boys so long. I guess I should have known."

It's Kurt's dad, leaning casually against the door frame in his formal wear. It's his wedding suit, paired with a black-on-black patterned tie that Blaine picked and Kurt approved. He's smirking, and it isn't cute.

"How are the Reds doing?" asks Blaine, and it's much more pleasant than the scathing reply that was sitting on Kurt's tongue.

"Game's over. They pulled it out just in time, 3-2."

"That's great!"

Blaine's smile is sunny, but Kurt can tell he's just being polite. He's confessed to Kurt that he finds baseball a tad boring.

"So, are we planning to get there before this thing starts, or what?"

"Just a few more minutes, Dad."

"We're going to have to scrape Carole off the floor if we leave her with Hiram and Leroy for too much longer. You know how they are about their chardonnay."

"I'm just putting the finishing touches on my hair."

His dad shakes his head with a long-suffering sigh.

"Maybe we should go find something on ESPN, huh Blaine? Might be a while yet."

Blaine shrugs at Kurt apologetically and follows his dad out to the living room. It's just as well – this will be faster without the two of them there to distract him.

The TV is on low, and Kurt can easily hear their voices above the noise. He picks up his comb and his hairspray, his instruments of war, and he listens.

"So, Blaine – how are you holding up?"

"I'm okay. A little nervous."

"I guess that's natural. Just remember, this is only the first of many. It won't make or break your career."

"I know, it's not that. It's more about the performance, to be honest."

"What? You knock that thing out of the park eight times a week in a bona fide Broadway theater. This can't be that different."

"The show is televised, nationally. It's a little...daunting."

His dad's voice changes, goes serious. Kurt can picture him leaning forward in his seat and resting his elbows on his knees.

"You worried about Sebastian?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that. Last Sue heard, he was in Paris, doing whatever it is he does when he's not playing producer. He's out of the picture."

There's silence for a while. Kurt assumes they're concentrating on whatever game they've settled on. He re-focuses on perfecting the swoop of his hair, absorbing himself so thoroughly in the task that his dad's voice nearly startles him into combing it flat.

"Maybe it isn't my place, but I got to tell you, kid – I'm proud of you no matter what happens on that stage tonight."

"Thank you."

Blaine's voice is clogged up, and Kurt wants to run out there and pull him close and soothe a hand down his back. He would, too, if Blaine were in any less capable hands.

Blaine hesitates, and then, heartbreakingly soft: "What if – what if they see?"

"Then they see. And they might start to get some sort of inkling of what they gave up when they walked out of your life, because it takes a hell of a man to make something like this out of nothing."

Blaine breathes in, sharply, like he does when he's trying not to cry. He pauses. Kurt knows how hard this is for him – he closes his eyes and just hopes with all his heart that Blaine knows how much of his support he has.

"I'm not actually sure if I'm more worried that they'll contact me or that they won't care enough to try."

"It's your choice, either way. In the meantime, you've got people in your corner who'll be there no matter what you choose."

There's a sniff, and a rustle of fabric, and the thumping sound of his dad's patented bear hug. Kurt swallows down his tears. He looks in the mirror, decides it's good enough, and rushes out to the living room to be with his family.

They're just pulling away from each other, blinking away their tears, when Kurt enters. He pauses, and watches, and loves the open affection between them. His dad gives Blaine something that Kurt never could, something he's needed maybe his entire life, and he's just so happy that Blaine has it, now.

He clears his throat and waits for them to notice him there.

"I believe we have a red carpet to dominate?"

Blaine smiles and wipes at his eyes. He gets up, and he offers Kurt his arm. Kurt takes it with a tender kiss to the cheek that makes Blaine's smile widen.

"Let's go show them how it's done," he says, with a wink that's meant only for Kurt.

And Kurt's nerves calm, all of a sudden, because it doesn't matter what happens tonight. At the end of it, he'll still have Blaine cuddled up close and warm and breathing against his skin in the quiet dark. Nothing that happens between now and then could change that, win or lose.

Come what may.

He straightens his spine and smiles.

Bring it on, Tony awards. Get ready to eat your heart out.