2010

Kurt flops face first onto his bed, exhausted enough that he hasn't even bothered to take off his uniform jacket. It's been a long day.

The bed is soft and a little weird beneath him. He doesn't exactly miss his saggy old twin, but this one doesn't feel quite right yet. It isn't accustomed to his body.

He closes his eyes and wiggles a little until he's spread out and comfortable as can be. He's going to give himself five minutes, no more, no less, to lie here and let his brain drift and just breathe. He sinks down into his pillow, already heavier with relaxation. He could go under, easily, even if he would wake up hating himself for it. It would feel so good right now to give in and stop resisting the pull...

Of course, it's at this moment that his phone chirps at him. He's maybe a little grateful, but mostly just annoyed. So help him, if this is Rachel following up on their recent détente-turned-friendship to complain about his stepbrother, he's hanging up without a word of explanation. They aren't that close.

With a groan, he rolls over and yanks his phone off of his nightstand. He takes a cursory glance at the screen and stops.

It's Blaine.

He runs a stupid hand through the styling of his bangs, then rolls his eyes at himself. He takes a deep breath, calms the sudden pounding of his heart, and presses "Accept."

"Hi," he says, and it's more breathless than he would ideally like.

"Hey, Kurt! Are you busy with family stuff right now, or can you talk?"

"I can talk."

It's technically true. Even if his father is expecting him downstairs in, oh god, 20 minutes now.

"Really?"

There's something so grateful there, at the heart of his voice, that every last one of Kurt's reservations sublimates into the ether.

"As long as you don't mind listening to me moisturize."

"Of course not. I do understand the importance of good skin care."

Kurt smiles, big and ridiculous, and it's a good thing that Blaine can't see him right now. He makes his way over to his vanity, puts Blaine on speaker, and starts pulling out his vast array of cleansers and creams.

"So, are you calling for a reason or just for the pleasure of my company?"

"The latter, actually. Is that okay?"

His smile only grows.

"Of course. Are your parents still out?"

"Oh, yeah. I probably won't see them until the morning."

"They're going to be out all night?"

"Not all night, no. But they don't usually make it home from these things before 1 AM."

"I thought it was just a business dinner."

"There's no such thing as just a business dinner."

Kurt's still getting to know him, of course, even if he does consider Blaine his best friend, so it isn't entirely shocking that he's never heard this particular bitter twist to his voice. It makes him want to back away almost as much as he wants to press on.

"It's too bad they couldn't come see you."

"They'll watch the recording. It's fine. It was really generous of your dad to make me a copy."

"It really wasn't a problem."

There's a pause. It's almost awkward, which is rare between them. Blaine clears his throat.

"Did you have fun tonight? I know it must have been kind of weird, competing against your friends."

"It would only have been weird if we'd beat them."

"They were really good. We're going to have to up our game for Regionals."

"I couldn't agree more. What do you think the council would say to a Stephen Sondheim medley?"

"Oh, my god, that would be completely awesome! But I'm not sure the council would agree, to be honest. They're more into Top 40, in case you hadn't noticed. Adding complexity to simple melodies, that kind of thing. I don't think Sondheim's going to fit the bill."

Kurt deflates. It's silly, though, because he was kind of expecting that.

"What are you thinking, then?"

"Well, we definitely need better choreography. That much is clear. And I think we're going to have to pull out the big guns."

"Big guns?"

"Two words: Destiny's Child."

Kurt can't help it. He laughs.

"Oh, god, can you imagine Wes' face if you stood up on Monday and suggested that we do 'Bootylicious' in eight-part harmony?"

Blaine snorts.

"It might be worth it to find out."

Kurt snickers, and Blaine joins in, and god, but Kurt loves his laugh. It dies down soon enough to a warm silence that Kurt is almost loath to break.

"You're right, though. We would totally rock some Beyoncé."

"Yeah?"

"Obviously."

"I'll start working on my pitch right away."

The thing is, Kurt's pretty sure he doesn't need to. He's got the council wrapped around his little finger, as far as Kurt can tell. They didn't even make him audition for his solos at Sectionals.

And Kurt gets it, he honestly does. Blaine is special. He's talented in a way that so few people are – he gets on a stage, in front of an audience, and it's like...sunlight glowing beneath his skin. Your eyes follow him, you can't help it, and soon enough, you've been drawn into his orbit. He wasn't made to sway in the background.

There are times when Kurt would almost literally kill to have that. When he thinks of the time and effort and screaming it took to get Mr. Schue to even consider giving him a competition solo, or the blank robot smiles the Warblers flashed him as they golf-clapped for his Sectionals audition... Kurt's got nothing but his voice to rely on. He just has to hope that someday it will be enough.

There's a sudden flash of pain in his right cheek. He flinches, and blinks, and realizes that he's lost track of himself and rubbed toner just a smidge too hard into his cheekbones. It's also at this moment that he realizes he's left a silence where it has no right to be.

"You do that. Let me know if I can be of service."

"But of course, my good sir. I'm going to need all the back-up I can get."

That's the other thing. Blaine would be so much easier to resent if he was at all aware of the power he has in that choir room. And if he weren't so dreamy, god.

"Do you have any other bright ideas I should know about?"

"A couple. But you're going to have to wait and see like everyone else."

"I can't even pull best friend privilege?"

His heart stops, when he realizes what he's just said. But Blaine just laughs.

"Sorry, no can do. Hey, speaking of best friends, did you manage to catch up with Mercedes? I know it's been a while since you've been able to see each other."

Kurt melts just a little more inside and proceeds to fill Blaine in on the most recent New Directions gossip, straight from the source. It's funny, because he'd assumed, when he first met Blaine, that he would frown upon such things, but he's actually kind of thirsty for it. He has an annoying habit of playing devil's advocate ("Maybe she was just lonely. That doesn't make her crazy, Kurt. Even if it isn't, um, the classiest thing in the world to sleep with your boyfriend's best friend"), but he always listens with wide eyes and gasps in all the right spots.

Suddenly, there's a knock at his door.

"Come in!" he calls.

The door opens, and his dad's head peeks around it.

"You coming, kid? We've got the movie cued up and ready to go."

Oh. Right. Kurt takes quick stock of himself. He's still wearing his uniform, jacket and all. He stopped somewhere around halfway through his regimen, caught up in retelling the saga of Brittany and the magic comb, as relayed by Mercedes-through-Artie, and thrilling in Blaine's low murmurs of disbelief.

"Just a few minutes, Dad."

"It's been almost half an hour, Kurt. Let's wrap this up."

He leaves and Kurt holds back a sigh.

"Sounds like you've got to go, huh?"

Kurt wants so desperately to say no.

"I – wait." An idea hits him. "How do you feel about James Bond?"

"Love Daniel Craig, think Pierce Brosnan is overrated, and no one can compare to Sean Connery. I may have dressed up as 007 for Halloween when I was eight. Why?"

"Do you want to come over? We're watching Goldfinger."

"It's kind of late, isn't it?"

"So? You can spend the night if you want. I'm sure my dad won't mind, and you said yourself your parents won't be home until after you've gone to bed."

"I wouldn't want to impose."

"It wouldn't be imposing! I promise, we have friends over all the time."

"No, really. You should spend the time with your family. I was just planning to catch up on Gossip Girl and go to sleep anyway."

"Are you sure? I swear you'd be welcome."

"I'm sure. You should go, you don't want to keep your dad waiting."

His voice is cheery, but it's in that polite way that Kurt has come to realize is maybe kind of a cover. He doesn't want to hang up, not like this, but he isn't left with much of a choice.

"Okay. Well, goodnight, then."

"Goodnight, Kurt."

He waits a moment, and so does Blaine. Blaine hangs up first. Kurt doesn't hold back his sigh, this time.

Kurt hurriedly finishes rubbing in the cream that he's left smeared all over his face, then screws the lids back on the rest. This will have to do for tonight.

He changes into pajamas and makes his way downstairs.

His dad doesn't look impressed with him.

"Who were you talking to, anyway?" His eyebrows are raised, but he looks like he knows the answer.

"Blaine."

His dad nods.

"Well, grab a seat, kid."

Kurt settles in at the end of the couch by his dad. Finn isn't here, he notes. Probably moping in his room or off slaughtering things on Puck's TV screen.

His dad is still looking at him.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing. Just – it's good that you have a friend like him to talk to."

Kurt bites his lip to stop the smile from getting out of control.

"Yeah," he says.

When he thinks about his life just over a month ago...

Well, it's a good thing the lights are down, because no one can see the sheen of sudden, unshed tears in his eyes.

He wouldn't go back for anything.