2013

He gets there early. Callbacks is always busy on a Friday night, and, more than that, always filled to the brim with NYADA students (and sometimes faculty, which is brilliant and hilarious by turns), so it's no problem finding some people to chat with while he waits. He ends up plonking down at a table of juniors, two of whom are in the Apples with him and the rest of whom helped him flesh out the chorus of last spring's production of The Mystery of Edwin Drood. They're good for a laugh, and they're good about rotating turns at the mic. It's during his (he almost goes for a balladic version of "My Humps," but ends up deciding on the more traditional "I Want It That Way") that they arrive.

He's just hitting the last chorus, actually, where he really gets to dig into the emotion of the song, but he's enough of a professional that he doesn't let them throw off his game.

It's Kurt and Rachel, of course, and with them is someone that Adam recognizes immediately, despite never having seen so much as a photo. He knew he was coming, Kurt told him (more than once, actually), but he would have known anyway. There's no one else Adam knows of that can make Kurt's face do that.

He's only a little bit jealous, though he does feel every last bit of it as he watches them together and belts out his last "Tell me why" and starts to wonder if maybe his song selection was a little more a propos than he originally intended.

He and Kurt cooled down almost as soon as they started to heat up, so it's not about being a possessive boyfriend type. It's just, well, there was hope there for a while, and Adam's starting to realize it never really went away. Just went...dormant.

Anyway, the last of the piano fades away, and Adam takes his applause with a grin. There really is nothing like applause from an audience of peers. It's one of the things he regrets about coming to such a competitive school – the dearth of that kind of support – but at least they have this, and at least they have liquor enough to make them stop taking themselves so seriously for the night.

He steps down to bid his companions farewell and makes his way through the crowd to the table that Kurt and his friends have made theirs.

He greets Kurt with a kiss on the cheek, and then Rachel, and then there's Blaine, holding his hand out with a polite, friendly smile.

"You must be Adam," he says. "You sounded really great up there."

"Thanks."

"This is Blaine," Kurt supplies, unnecessarily, tongue lingering over the "n."

Adam takes the proffered hand and shakes heartily, careful not to do the stupid macho thing he kind of wants to. He wouldn't, even if Kurt were something he could fight for, and he's not. Blaine's grip is firm but pleasant, and he looks Adam in the eye until they let go. The bloke's got manners, at least.

He's not exactly sure what he was expecting from Kurt's infamous ex, but this actually fits pretty closely. He's got warmth about him, and maturity, and he's definitely easy on the eyes. His dress sense is very prep school meets geek-chic, very deliberate and carefully considered. He can see why Kurt would be drawn to him.

The table is small, so their knees are all touching beneath the table. Adam is between Kurt and Rachel, though not for long, because Rachel is up and at the mic before her drink order has even come through. Her voice is lovely as ever, passionate and strong, but Adam is more interested in what's going on at the table.

"So," he says. "I hear you'll be joining us next year."

The "us" is technically stretching the truth, as Adam himself is graduating in a few short weeks, but details, yeah?

Kurt and Blaine both smile, carefully not at each other, and Blaine nods cheerfully.

"Yeah, I just got my letter last week."

"I brought him with me today so he could see what he was getting himself into."

"And?"

"It's a little...intense, but I definitely think I made the right decision. Kurt's friends have all been really nice and welcoming."

"They're just excited to scope out next year's fresh meat."

Kurt says it with a smile, and his knee nudges against Blaine's beneath the table. Blaine grins back. There's a moment lost, there, as they look at each other. Adam resists the urge to clear his throat.

"You'll have to join the Apples. We're always looking for new members."

Kurt lights up.

"He's right, you'd love it, Blaine! You have to." He turns to Adam. "He was the lead singer of his school's a capella group his sophomore year, and the lead in McKinley's show choir this year, too. He'd be perfect."

Blaine is smiling, still, obviously pleased at the praise, but his expression has turned bashful. Suddenly, he looks every bit his eighteen years.

"Will I have to audition, or can anyone join?"

"With that kind of recommendation, I think they'd let Adolf Hitler in. Besides, getting into NYADA is audition enough, don't you think?"

Blaine asks him a few more questions about the Apples – how they started, where they perform, that sort of thing – and the genuine interest he shows makes it easy for Adam to give him the long version of the story. Blaine tells him stories about the New Directions in return, with frequent interjections from Kurt. The ease between them is obvious, the history easily read in their bodies. They touch each other nearly unconsciously, little touches to arms and elbows and shoulders that linger longer and longer as the night wears on. They look at each other in tandem, share secrets with their eyes.

The topic turns, eventually, to Adam's post-graduation plans, which leads to a classic NYADA debate: West End vs. Broadway. Rachel wraps up her mini set with a deep curtsey and re-joins them just as they get deep into comparing the original cast recordings of Les Misérables, which, of course, turns into a discussion of the movie, and there's no turning back from there.

"They butchered it!" she cries, slamming her fist onto the table hard enough that her poor, neglected drink spills over a bit. "You can't deny that. I wanted my money back at the end, to be perfectly honest."

Kurt snorts.

"Oh, come on. You were crying your eyes out, admit it."

"I will not!"

"Well, it was either that or you smeared your mascara all over your face on purpose."

Her jaw drops in indignation, but Blaine pipes up before she can snap back.

"Well, I loved it. I might have liked it better than the stage production."

Rachel whips her head around to face him.

"Take that back," she says, dead serious.

"I liked that it was stripped back and raw. And no, the actors weren't perfect Broadway belters, but that wasn't the point."

"It's Les Mis. What other point is there?"

"Uh, communicating through music? Making you feel something? Isn't that what art is all about?"

"I'm with Blaine," says Kurt, before Rachel has a chance to sputter out her rebuttal. She turns to him, her sense of betrayal written plainly over her face. "Yes, I may have wanted to gouge out my own eardrums whenever Russell Crowe opened his mouth, and no, it didn't have the sweeping, epic romance of the stage version, but there was something...intimate about it."

"Exactly."

"I mean, it made my father bawl his eyes out."

Blaine laughs, delighted, and Kurt grins at him. There's another one of those lost moments.

Kurt clears his throat and turns back to Adam.

"That may be more impressive if you know him. He's a middle-aged mechanic, if that helps."

"Yeah, you've mentioned him before."

"Oh. Right."

"Your father's opinion doesn't count, Kurt. He doesn't know anything about musical theater."

"I don't know, Rachel, I don't think you have to know about something to know whether or not it works. That's the point of performing, isn't it? To connect with people? The fact that the movie made Burt cry proves that they succeeded."

Kurt is smiling at him, soft and warm, like he's said something very right. Blaine meets his eye. They're not touching, in this moment, but they might as well be.

"Well, it didn't work for me."

There's a momentary lull, while Rachel sips on her drink and pouts simultaneously and the rest of them watch the tail end of some sophomore's (Jane? Janet? Jania?) impressive rendition of "All That Jazz." By the time they're applauding her big finish, Rachel has recovered from her sulk and is leaning in conspiratorially.

"Janice has been abusing that song every week since I did it last fall with Cassie July. I think maybe I'll go show her how it's done with a little Barbra."

Blaine hops off of his stool.

"I think I'm actually going to go give it a whirl, if you don't mind."

Kurt turns to him, eyebrows raised.

"You're going to do Barbra?"

Blaine laughs, teasing and fond.

"No."

"Oh. Um. Okay. Break a leg."

Blaine smiles at him, just for him, and Adam can tell it's meant to be reassuring. As soon as Blaine's back is turned, Rachel shifts to friend mode and rubs delicately at Kurt's shoulder with an encouraging smile.

Adam is pretty sure he's missing something.

Blaine puts his name on the list and starts flipping through the songbook almost idly, like he already knows what he's going to sing but wants to be certain. Kurt and Rachel start a conversation about Santana and her latest antics that Adam only pays half-attention to. Something about a girl named Luisa and a pair of handcuffs. Adam is much more interested in the play of light and shadow over Kurt's face. It does interesting things to the planes of his cheeks and the color of his eyes.

Finally, it's Blaine's turn, and Adam might not have noticed if it weren't for the way Kurt sits up ramrod straight in his chair and zooms in, laser-focused, on the stage. Adam turns to watch.

"This song is for a good friend of mine," says Blaine, a hint of a lopsided smile twisting up his lips. He nods to the pianist on duty.

It's not a song that Adam recognizes right away, but he knows for sure that it isn't Broadway. It's fairly fast, with a stripped-down pop-rock feel. Not the kind of thing that you belt to.

Blaine keeps the microphone in its stand, one hand wrapped around it as he moves slightly to the rhythm of the music.

And then he starts.

You're such a motivator, gotta get your way

So sick of saying yes sir, yes sir...

Kurt talks about Blaine all the time, even more than he probably realizes. He's built this image in Adam's head of Blaine as a performer, this larger-than-life image that literally no one could live up to, because it isn't possible to be that charismatic and that talented at everything, not all at the same time, at least.

But Blaine comes pretty close.

There's just...something. His voice is lovely, but Adam hears lovelier voices on a daily basis (Kurt's included). It's more about the way his body moves with the music, like he can't help it, like the music is moving him. It's the way his tongue curls around the words and makes each one feel new. It's his eyes, his face, just everything about him, brighter than the stage lights and full of joy.

Kurt can't seem to take his eyes off him. And Blaine is looking right back.

...Your body rocking, keep me up all night

One in a million

My lucky strike.

Kurt visibly shivers. His eyes have been growing gradually wider as he stares, rapt, at the stage.

The crowd is into it, too, drawn together and drawn to Blaine in a way they haven't been to anyone else tonight, and he plays to all of them until they're putty in his hands.

He always comes back around to Kurt.

Got me so high, and then he dropped me

But he got me, he got me, he got me bad

Took me inside and then he rocked me

He keep me up all night, this is what it sounds like...

There's something almost predatory about the way Kurt's eyes are tracking him now. His pupils are blown wide, his breath shallow. He licks his lips.

Blaine meets his eyes, and he grins, eyes sparkling wickedly beneath the lights. Adam feels suddenly like he and about 150 other patrons are intruding on something private.

The feeling doesn't go away after Blaine takes his bow, when he returns to the table and asks, casually, "So, what did you think?" and doesn't even bother to glance at anyone but Kurt.

"I think..." says Kurt, voice breathy, equally tunnel-visioned. "I think I'd like to get some air."

"Oh, yeah," says Blaine, hurriedly. "Me too."

"Anyone want to join? No?"

He grabs Blaine by the hand and practically drags him in a direction that Adam is pretty sure doesn't lead to the front door.

He turns to Rachel.

"What was that?"

She gives him a look that he can't quite decipher, but that he's pretty sure adds up to pity.

"It's probably better not to ask."

"But it isn't just me, yeah? They're definitely off to fuck in the men's room?"

She raises her eyebrows in a show of shock, but she nods.

"Probably."

"That's a little..."

"Insane?"

"I was thinking, 'out of character.' I didn't know their relationship...included those kinds of benefits."

"Yes, well, I find it easier to be supportive if I don't know the details."

"Right. Maybe I should go."

"No! Please don't make me the third wheel. They'll be all gross and smirky all night – do you really want to subject me to that alone?"

Do you really want to subject me to that at all? he thinks but doesn't say. She gives him her best pleading doe eyes.

"Alright. I'll stay."

It's an uncomfortably long time before they return. He and Rachel spend it watching the performers and critiquing them in generally opposite ways. It's actually pretty fun, making her fume over his praise of Melissa Eckelstein's rendition of "My Man."

It's obvious what they've been doing when they return.

They're both flushed a little red. Kurt's hair has recently been restyled, and Blaine's has broken free of the tight-fisted control of his gel. Their clothes are impeccably in place, but for Kurt's scarf draped around Blaine's neck in a way that entirely clashes with his outfit. They're both smiling, pleased with themselves and, probably, each other. Kurt has a hand planted between Blaine's shoulder blades that Adam is fairly certain migrates to his thigh when they're once again seated.

Rachel's assessment of the situation was entirely accurate. They keep looking at each other, just short little looks, but it's like the dam has broken. There's nothing left to hide. Their feelings are laid out plainly on their faces.

Adam wants to tell them to get out of here, go find the room they're obviously desperate for, and get it out of their systems, because it is genuinely not fun to watch. At least Rachel is there, suffering with him.

Eventually, Kurt stands up again.

"My turn," he says. His voice is low and flirty, and he's looking right at Blaine. Blaine raises his eyebrows and smirks.

"Let's hear it."

Adam leans in toward Rachel, confident that Blaine won't even register that they're there long enough to notice them.

"If this just another excuse for them to eye-fuck across a crowded room, I'm out of here."

She giggles and clings to his arm, but he was actually serious. File that under "Things I Never Need to See."

It's not quite that.

It's not a style that Adam has ever heard Kurt sing before, strong in his low range, poppier than his usual tastes.

Maroon 5. Again. Adam is sensing a theme.

Here I am waiting, you'll have to leave soon...

The lyric change is not lost on Adam. It's pretty obvious who this is about, not that he had doubts.

Blaine, across the table from him, is inscrutable but for the complicated affection shining from his eyes.

...And when the daylight comes you'll have to go

But tonight I'm gonna hold you so close

Cause in the daylight we'll on our own

But tonight I need to hold you so close...

And this is what makes Kurt so very special, because there's undeniably genuine feeling in his voice, that kind that gives empty words life. He's still but for the small, unconscious movements of his body with the swells and the falls of the music. The power in him is clean, focused, controlled, beaming out only where he sends it.

He doesn't bother looking at anyone else. Blaine might as well be the only person in the room.

Here I am staring at your perfection

In my arms, so beautiful...

Blaine is barely moving. He's biting down on his lips, eyes wide and glassy and drinking in the song like it's a tall glass of water and he's been parched for years.

Adam can hardly blame him. If it were Kurt singing this song to him, with that look in his eyes, that fierce, hectic sort of tenderness... Well, he'd probably be just as overwhelmed.

...But tonight I need to hold you so close...

As he watches, it starts to dawn on him.

There have always been these puzzle pieces of Kurt that never really fell into place, things he kept close to the chest and covered with a bland smile. Adam knew there was a bad break-up, of course – it was one of the first things Kurt told him on their first date. He knew that Kurt was still friends with ex, close friends, even. He knew that there were still feelings there that Kurt was conflicted about. He knew that Kurt wasn't ready to date anyone else with any kind of seriousness, and he knew that, because of all of these things, but especially because of this last, the two of them would be better off as friends.

It isn't so much the things that Kurt's said as much as the things he's so carefully kept quiet...

I never wanted to stop because I don't wanna start all over, start all over

I was afraid of the dark but now it's all that I want, all that I want, all that I want...

He never really got that Kurt was still in love with his ex.

And, god, but it's so clear now that Kurt has never really even tried to get over Blaine. He wants to be in love with him.

Suddenly, as much as he adores watching Kurt perform, and as much as he doesn't want to trap Rachel alone with the two of them, he wants to get out of here even more.

So he does. Kurt will understand. If he even notices.