Kurt sighed as he looked over the notes the director had given him. It was a retake on Moulin Rouge without the strippers and the main star, Satine now called Kass, being played by a male. Him.

Of course he’d been teased incessantly by his friends, especially Rachel and Santana, both of whom had been cast with him and spent most of the last week calling him Kurtine. He was ready to murder them both.

He looked around the stage as he glanced over his notes. How things had changed in the last few years.

After NYADA had turned him down he’d gone for Juilliard and been accepted and had moved to New York and gotten an apartment with Rachel.

He and Blaine had tried to keep their relationship working but they had no time for each other, neither of them realising in the cold light of day how truly hard it was to keep up a long distance relationship. They’d fallen apart, arguing most of the time they did see or speak to each other, falling asleep with tears rolling down their faces. They’d finally agreed to break up at Thanksgiving during Blaine’s senior year. Kurt had flown home to see his parents and Finn, who’d joined Burt running the shop instead of joining the army and had a quiet meeting with Blaine at his house. They’d talked, cried, made love and said goodbye. Kurt had walked out of the house, a part of himself left behind with the broken young man crying into his pillows.

He’d carried on with life, learning to live without that little piece of himself that would always belong with Blaine, a ring made of gum wrappers and a dream of ending their lives together in a nursing home.

Kurt had worked hard, passed his courses with honours and been hankered after by directors and show-writers, his voice a unique substance instead of holding him back like he’d worried about back in high school. He’d become a well-respected and sought after actor, as had Rachel and Santana, each achieving their dreams while losing their soul mates along the way.

This show was the same. They’d decided to put Moulin Rouge on the stage but his voice didn’t suit Christian’s, so they’d altered the show around him and to bring it slightly up to date, without losing the magic it created.

Kurt looked down at his notes again, his eyebrow rising sceptically when he saw the scribbled note next to Kass. It read ‘meaning – black bird’. Seriously? He looked around and saw Rachel waving at him from where she was standing and narrowed his eyes. Either their director had suddenly gained the power to look into his past or one of the girls had talked.

He stalked over to Rachel and shoved his notes under her nose and whispered. “Do you know anything about this?”

Rachel’s eyes widened as she read the note and held up her hands, backing away slightly and stuttered. “N-no Kurt I didn’t, I wouldn’t, honest!”

“Uh oh has Kurtine found out about his name? I must say it fits and if anyone asks about the significance, we could always say all the real songbird names were taken and as much as you look like a woman, I don’t think Raven or Jemima really suits you, do you?” Santana’s smug voice sounded from behind him and Kurt turned around, glaring at her.

“Screw you, Satan.” He sniped back, mirth swirling in his eyes, mirroring hers. Rachel covered her giggle with her hand behind him.

“Oh no thanks,” Santana said as Kurt stomped past her, head held high. “Love you Kurty-poo!” She shouted at his retreating back, giggling as he flipped her the bird and sighed as she looked around, the other actors watching them. Some shocked and some hiding laughter themselves. The three of them were legendary on Broadway, their bickering as much part of their reputation as their fantastic acting abilities.

Kurt flopped onto the chair just inside the director’s office and sighed. “You really shouldn’t listen to anything Santana says. Kass? Black bird, Christophe? Really?”

Christophe looked up and smiled. He’d worked with Kurt before on a few shows and enjoyed both the friendliness behind the professionalism and the rapport between Kurt and Santana and Rachel. “I had to use something with singing or beauty and there’s really not male names meaning beauty. Now why don’t you get back to terrorising the crew and orchestra and let me get back to these revisions.” He smiled at Kurt and Kurt smiled back.

Kurt stood and picked up his script from the floor, sighing dramatically. “Okay but I really must know next time you talk to Santana about ideas, she really has no idea what she’s doing.” He walked out of the room, Christophe’s laughter following him and hooked his arm around Santana’s as she stood outside the door laughing hysterically.

“Don’t eat the new piano guy you two, he’s perfect!” Christophe shouted, knowing they enjoyed using their gravitas and incredibly sharp tongues to weed out people who didn’t meet their expectations.

Kurt was walking around the stage, running lines with Rachel who was playing the female Christian role, Dulcie, after she’d refused to have the name be changed to Christina.

“I think we need to start using different mediums if you’re going to start like that. Start lower then go higher, Rachel.” Kurt said, trying to harmonize with the switched roles wouldn’t work if they stayed the same as the movie.

Rachel’s eyes lit up and she jumped up and down a little. “Of course! Brilliant, Kurt. I’ll just sing it that way then we’ll harmonize better.”

Kurt gave her a deadpan face then waited as she started to sing, joining in as her voice rose.

The song was going well until he heard the sound coming from the orchestra pit. The piano was playing. He remembered Christophe saying they had a new piano player and usually Kurt would be fine with that and be happy whoever it was was practicing but right now he wasn’t. The piano was playing, the wrong song.

“Kurt leave it.” Rachel said as they stopped singing and Kurt made towards the edge of the stage, ready to give whoever was interrupting their singing a piece of his mind.

He waved her off and sat down on the edge of the stage. From behind the man looked good. Young, slim but toned, curly haired and tanned and a great ass. Something twinged in the back of his mind but he ignored it. The performing arts schools churned out hundreds of guys who looked just like that, there was no chance and they’d easily get a new pianist.

“Ahem.” He said, leaning over to catch the other man’s attention. His fingers stopped moving across the keys and Kurt banged his foot on the wall of the pit, making sure he had the man’s attention.

He opened his mouth as the man turned, ready with a witty insult but it died on his lips as his breath caught. The man turned and hazel-gold met glasz and Kurt’s world turned upside down, one word leaving his lips.

“Blaine.”