By the time the call came, Blaine had to admit he wasn't all that surprised.

"Well, my boy, they've arrested me again - the same jail as last time, you remember the place? I left money for bail beside the tea kettle, plus a little extra so we can go to dinner after if you'd like." A moment of noise, then "Sorry, there's quite a line of us. See you soon!"

Blaine sighed and shook his head as he hung up the phone and closed his book. It could be worse; if they were one of those schools on semesters instead of quarters, he would be in the middle of studying for finals - like last time. Besides, Peter sounded like he was in good spirits, despite his obvious circumstances, which meant the police must not have gotten too rough or hostile. He guessed that meant there were enough students that they were just trying to get everyone under control and didn't have time to show off how tough they were.

He had no idea if that was right or not, but it sounded good in his head. And he did know Peter's degrees of bravado well enough to be able to tell that he was faking enthusiasm, but not so overtly so that he was trying to cover up something being really wrong.

He picked the phone up again, dialing Janie. She and Peter might have had an arrangement where, should her car go missing, she could just assume it was her friend's doing until proven otherwise, but Blaine always felt awkward when he considered doing the same. No matter how many times Peter assured him that she wouldn't mind - and by now it was many, many times indeed - it felt a bit too much like stealing for his comfort. He knew Janie somewhat, and he liked her and thought she complemented Peter really well, but he didn't know her well enough to just take her car.

"Hello?"

"Hi - this is Blaine-" he began, but before he could even say his purpose for calling, she cut him off with a quiet laugh.

"He needs you to bail him out?"

Blaine wasn't sure if she just knew Peter that well, or if she knew because it was the only reason Blaine called her except for one time he couldn't find his boyfriend and it turned out Peter was holed up in some reading room way at the back of the second floor of the library that no one realized was open. "Yes. How did you-"

"He told me he was going up there today. And sometime next week, I think, I have it written down. I guess whatever was going on up there, he assumed he'd need picked up both days."

"He did leave bail money," Blaine offered, and he could hear the grin in her voice as she replied.

"Our boy is courteous like that, isn't he?"

Our boy. It wasn't the first time Janie had said it, but it still sent shivers up his spine to hear. She always sounded conspiratorial when she used the phrase, like they were in on a secret, though Blaine knew that couldn't be further from the truth. Peter didn't try to hide him. In fact, he almost seemed to actively try not to hide him, which was simultaneously terrifying and wonderful. A boy loved him enough to be willing to risk everything for him - his friends, his future job prospects, his freedom (though Peter did swear up and down that no one had been arrested just for being out with a male lover in decades, and Blaine had to admit that he didn't have any evidence to the contrary). It made him almost dizzy with joy and disbelief; that Janie did seem to like him and approve of the relationship made it all the better.

"The car's out front, go ahead and just use Peter's key - and tell him he owes me a tank of gas, he left it almost empty last time," she added, clearly not that angry about the $6 he owed her.

"Do you need it back at any particular time?" he asked. Peter had promised dinner, but if she needed to get somewhere that would take precedence - at least in Blaine's mind.

"Not tonight, I was going to make an early evening of it. Be careful on the drive."

"I will. And thank you," he replied sincerely before hanging up and getting ready. He was pretty sure he remembered how to get there, anyway; he assumed it would be much easier this time, when he wasn't so busy being terrified.

* * * * *

Blaine had no idea why there was an entire plaza devoted to chocolate, but he had to admit he was intrigued as soon as Peter told him there was a place he wanted to try in Ghiradelli Square. Under his boyfriend's direction, he wove his way through the hilly city streets; he was getting somewhat familiar with the parts of the city nearest to Polk and just around the edges of the Tenderloin, but he had never been this far north - or east, he was pretty sure. "Let's see, surely there's a place to park around here somewhere..." Peter mused, tapping his fedora absently against his thigh as he scanned the street for an empty space.

"I don't know, it looks like there are a lot of restaurants up here," Blaine observed as he saw a car pull out and another car snatch up the spot almost out of nowhere.

"Hm, true. But this place is meant to be fantastic, and you've never had fondue before," Peter replied, as though that were in any way relevant to the problem of parking. "You haven't, have you? It's popular enough in some corners of Europe, but it's new to this coast and I doubt..."

"That in Ohio they dip bread in cheese and call it a meal?" Blaine filled in, and Peter grinned.

"It's more than that, my boy, you'll see. It's worth it for the- oh! Right there," he pointed as a car's lights flickered on with the starting of the engine. Blaine applied the brake, waiting for the Corvette to pull out. The car remained in place, most likely while the driver got himself situated or found something in the glove compartment, and after a few moments of silence, Peter said, "You should have come with me today."

"What do you mean?"

"To the protest. You would have loved it - there were hundreds of people there, so many more than anyone expected." Blaine glanced over at his lover; in the uneven illumination of the streetlamp streaming through the windshield, Peter's eyes glimmered excitedly. He had foregone his jacket and tie, opting for an oxford shirt with the top two buttons undone, undershirt almost yellow in this light. His suspenders had some kind of stitched pattern on them that Blaine couldn't identify in the darkness, and Blaine had to admit he was kind of surprised the police hadn't tried to confiscate them. Didn't they take men's belts so they couldn't use them as a weapon? He thought he had seen that on a movie one time.

Maybe it was different when they arrested so many people at once. From what he could tell driving up to the police station, they had certainly brought in a lot of students...but at least a few who seemed older and like they were waiting for rides instead of just traipsing back to campus in groups. Maybe the police didn't take all the same precautions when they had to process so many people at one time...or when the people weren't really dangerous. Criminals were one thing; students protesting and disrupting the peace or something was another and he was pretty sure that even the biggest jerk of a cop wasn't going to treat someone standing up for what they believed in the same way as a guy who stabbed 50 people or something.

He liked to think so, anyway. He knew things didn't always work that way, at least not judging from the way the police treated people they didn't like...but not out here. And either way, Peter looked fine and clearly hadn't regretted what had happened if he was wishing Blaine had been there. "Really?"

"Absolutely, my boy - it was incredible. Hundreds of people shouting that they wouldn't go fight an immoral war. And the cards! Oh, how could I have almost forgotten to tell you about the cards? We- I'll wait until you've parked so I can show you," Peter rambled, grinning. The Corvette's brake lights flickered then dimmed to tail lights as the driver maneuvered out of the spot along the curb, and Blaine pulled forward, really hoping he wouldn't wreck the car that didn't even belong to him. How long had it been since he had parked somewhere? He couldn't even remember - he walked everywhere around campus, and any time they went up into the city Peter usually drove them...and even when he had lived in Ohio he hadn't driven all that much because they couldn't have cars at Dalton and he tried to go home as little as possible so it wasn't even as though he were parking to run errands in Westerville- "What's wrong, my boy?"

"Nothing," he replied quickly. When he could feel Peter's eyes boring into him, clearly not believing him, he offered, "I haven't done this in awhile. I- y'know, I know how, but I really don't want to ruin her car."

"You won't," Peter assured him. His hand on Blaine's was warm and strong...and distracting, a little, but in a good way. "Just focus."

"Not so easy when you're nearby," Blaine half-joked, and Peter chuckled softly. Drawing in a deep breath, eyes flicking between the rear and side mirrors, he backed carefully toward the curb. Any second he swore he would feel the vehicle crunch into the car behind them or hop onto the sidewalk, but the jolt never came; he pulled forward a little to try to get closer to the curb.

"There you go - you see? You worry about everything, my boy, but in the end you do just fine," Peter praised, squeezing his hand. "Now let's go eat. And you better save room for dessert; everything you can imagine, dipped in chocolate. It's brilliant." He slipped out of the car, waiting on the curb for Blaine to do the same, and Blaine couldn't help but notice just how much younger Peter seemed when he was excited. He was still proper and seemed older - and older-fashioned - than about anyone else Blaine had ever met, but he didn't seem like someone who was infallible, who had seen and done it all. Instead he seemed like an eager, adorable...boy just like him.

Had he caught up to Peter somewhere along the way? Was that why- because he knew he had seen his boyfriend excited about things before, he remembered Peter's beaming smile when they won back in February and how ecstatically proud he had been on New Years and even how satisfied he had seemed the last time Blaine picked him up from jail, but now the expression was different; more transparent. Easier.

Or maybe, Blaine thought as he watched Peter shift and bounce on the balls of his feet, it wasn't about gaining enough experience to be on the same level; maybe it was that all of this was so much less guarded than it had been months ago. Because they were boyfriends now, and he wasn't just some terrified kid, and...and Peter genuinely knew he could do things now instead of just saying it as a meaningless platitude.

Or maybe the protest had just been that good. Either way, he really liked the way things felt.

He didn't even have time to glance down and check how far from the curb he was before Peter whisked him down the street, around the corner, and up a flight of brick stairs, then into a small, dimly-lit restaurant. The scent of rich, fancy chocolate was almost overpowering, like the time his mother's cook decided to make hand-rolled truffles for a Christmas party and he spent all day wanting desperately to eat them but not being allowed to - very hard for a boy of 7. The carpet beneath his feet was plush, the decor a little overdone as though trying to fashion itself a lounge where the Rat Pack might come after a show if they weren't several hundred miles away. "How many this evening, gentlemen?" asked the neatly-dressed host as he plucked menus from the stand beside the door.

"Two," Peter replied, and though Blaine watched for any sort of reaction from the gentleman he saw none - either the man didn't think anything of two young men dining together without any women or other friends present, or he thought something of it and was polite enough to keep it to himself, and Blaine was...well, he liked the former option better, but the latter was at least better than expected.

The host led them through the dining room, filled with curved banquets finished in black tufted leather. Sconces affixed to the wall illuminated each semi-circle, leaving darker pockets between tables but not so dark that Blaine couldn't see the art deco tiling detail where the end of each banquet came together - diamonds in blues and ivories and silvers, subtle but a nice touch. In the center of each occupied table sat a silver pot atop some kind of tripod-looking structure, sticks rising from the top of the pot at all angles. They arrived at an empty booth near the back, and Peter slid into the booth easily while Blaine sat on the other side. It was easier this way - no chairs to pull out, no-

...No date rules to apply even though, he realized suddenly, that was exactly what this felt like.

That was dumb, Blaine chastised himself. He had been out with Peter a dozen- okay, not quite, but it felt like it - times. They went to the bars together all the time, and sometimes they ate on the way up or back, and they had grabbed lunch together on-campus before when Peter happened to need a break in writing his thesis at the same time that Blaine had a break between classes, but a restaurant with low lights and plush booths felt much different than a sandwich from the cafeteria or a hamburger from the place just off the 101. Those could easily feel like any two friends getting a meal together, the same way he had with plenty of the guys he used to drink with way back when, but surrounded by couples he felt so obvious. What friends came to a place like this for a friendly dinner? Not that it would be a fun place to just hang out with people he liked - and if the smell was anything to go by, he bet Peter was right about the dessert being amazing. But he doubted that Friday and Saturday nights found these booths packed with groups of college-aged buddies dunking bread into cheese and laughing together; it was probably a little more romantic than that.

It wasn't that he didn't want to be on a date with Peter - he did. He really did. It was just...confusing. How was he supposed to know what rules applied? He had been a really great gentleman when he took girls out - except for maybe the parts when he drank too much - and always made sure to pull out their chairs and pick up the cheques and do things the way he had been taught. How did things work when neither of them were a girl?

And what if someone noticed?

The booth helped obscure them somewhat, but they certainly weren't hidden completely. All the waitstaff could see them, and anyone else who walked past...

But mostly, what if Peter thought he was a really awful date?

Because there was no way Peter would do anything that would get them in trouble - okay, he understood that sounded naive considering he had just picked his boyfriend up from jail, but that was different. Standing up for what a person believed in was different than walking into casual danger, and neither of them was dumb enough to do anything overt in front of a crowd that wasn't like them, so he didn't need to worry. He really doubted there was a secret vice squad that happened upon random restaurants and queried unsuspecting patrons about what they were doing there, so unless the cast of Dragnet was outside waiting for them when they walked to their car they were probably not in too much danger. He hoped not, anyway; but Peter seemed to know everywhere in town and wouldn't take him somewhere dangerous. So that left everything else to worry about.

He looked at the young man perusing the menu with a thoughtful expression. "How much do you have to do tonight?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'd love to do three courses, but if you have homework-"

"Nothing I can't do tomorrow," Blaine replied, more or less honestly. He could catch up, anyway.

Peter lowered the menu, flashing a wide grin. "Excellent."

"What about your work?" He hadn't written a thesis yet, but he was pretty sure that every night Peter swore he would write it and then spent time with him instead. Not that he minded - he loved spending time together - but he wasn't sure if any of it had actually been written.

Peter shook his head. "I assumed I wouldn't be around tonight to work on it and planned accordingly." Blaine wasn't sure he was convinced, and he supposed he must have looked it because Peter laughed softly. "You're in class all day, my boy, I have plenty of time to work and still see you. Don't worry; I'm most of the way through the necessary revisions and then can begin the arduous process of planning my defense. I'm on-track." He dropped his voice slightly and added, eyes sparkling, "But it's sweet of you to worry."

"It's not that I don't trust you-"

"It's okay," Peter assured him. He started to reach for Blaine's hand but thought better of it, the heel of his hand skimming the tabletop instead as he withdrew. "I know you trust me," he stated, meeting Blaine's eyes. Trust felt like such an understatement, but Blaine didn't know of a better word to convey the depth of it, so he simply nodded. Peter offered a faint smile and said, "I know that's big for you. You've come such a long way...and I know it's because you trust me."

Had he? Blaine blinked, glancing around. This was exactly the type of place he would have never known existed six months ago because he had never been north of the airport, and he knew every bar or restaurant that served alcohol in Palo Alto so he assumed he didn't need anywhere else. Who had needed to go that far just for something to eat with beer? Who cared about ambiance when you wouldn't remember it the next day? What was the point of it, except maybe to impress a girl, and the kinds of girls he went after rarely-...

Six months ago, if he'd known this place existed, he would have been here with a girl if he'd been here at all. He never could have sat across from someone he knew to be just like him, dangerously sick as he thought they were, without being terrified of his symptoms flaring up. Beyond even someone seeing them, he would have been too scared of what someone like Peter would do to him - would make him do, would make him want...he could never have done this back then. Not for all the money in the world. He would have been here with a girl who was perfectly nice, perfectly funny, perfectly perfect, and felt so wrong that he was practically falling down by the time they left just so he could feel normal - as though being such a mess could ever be normal - and yet here he was. Here he was with an amazing, intelligent, sweet, adoring young man who- who wore fedoras to jail and stood up for who he was and was so completely-

Blaine swallowed hard, trying not to let the overwhelming feeling subsume him, and he felt Peter's hand nudge his lightly, reassuring - because that was the type of boy Peter was. He tried to help, and he wanted to be sure Blaine was okay. When was the last time someone had even noticed how miserable he was before Peter? Who besides Peter and Kurt had ever tried to help him out of his self-imposed darkness?

What if he hadn't met him? What if Peter hadn't decided to go to a party for a department he wasn't even part of? What if someone else had found him passed out a couple weeks later? What if Blaine had managed to do what he had wanted so desperately last fall - to stop running into the boy, to forget all about him, to never have to see the attractive eccentric again? Would he still be a fall-down mess? Or worse - would he be locked in a hospital somewhere, trying desperately to change but feeling utterly hopeless to ever get rid of his supposed sickness?

Instead he was on a date with a boy in a strange part of San Francisco, and he was utterly unafraid of anything except being too inexperienced to give the young man everything he deserved in a boyfriend.

He met Peter's gaze, wanting to convey how much had changed, how much better off he knew he was, how immeasurably better he felt now than he had. Words could never be enough- Peter simply offered a tender smile. "I'm so proud of you, my boy," he whispered.

Apparently words could be more than too much.

Blaine swallowed again, trying to keep tears from making their way forward- who in the world had ever been proud of him before? - and Peter seemed to understand, retreating from sentimentality. "Now. What are your feelings on Fribourg? Because while most of the cheese pot are Gruyere, this half-and-half sounds quite good."

Blaine laughed softly, letting the tension and overwhelming emotion release a little, head bobbing down. "I don't have any particular opinions about cheese," he replied, smiling faintly at the oddity of the sentence.

"Then here - start looking at desserts," Peter urged, handing him the menu. "Even as good as it sounds, you'll be amazed by how incredible it is."

Blaine didn't think anything could be more true.

* * * * *

Blaine grinned as he tugged open the door of the practice room where the Mendicants had gathered. "Ready, guys?" he asked. He had been looking forward to this all week. More than any other performance all year - except maybe the first one, and possibly the one at the showcase just because of the message involved - this one felt momentous. The faces weren't as bright as usual on performance days; as Blaine looked around the room, he saw a mix of uncertainty, cautious disapproval... "Hey, guys, it's gonna be great," he assured them, being extra peppy to hopefully bring the energy up.

"Look, Blaine, it's not that we don't trust you," Fitz began.

"'Cause we do, man, you're really good at this, and you're a great frontman and all," Tim agreed.

"But...the song..." Jerry shifted, mouth kind of tugging to one side as his eyebrows lowered.

"Not the arrangement," Fitz jumped in. "It sounds great, we're just..."

"Not girls," Tommy stated flatly, arms folded across his chest.

Blaine sighed, nodding. He had thought this might come up again. It had taken almost an entire rehearsal to convince them to even look at the arrangement, and another two hours to get them into the song because every time they would start to sound good someone would question the wisdom of the performance again and Blaine would have to wrangle them again. He felt a little bad doing it just because he liked to be the leader who shepherded the group into doing something they could all enjoy, but this was too important to him to take a back seat. He needed to conquer this particular frontier, and he needed to sing what he felt but couldn't possibly say...and the guys needed to face their fear of singing girl songs anyway. At least this one they didn't have to change anything around to make it okay to sing in public because it didn't say "boy" or "guy" or "him" anywhere in it.

"Girls love the Toys," he stated.

"Doesn't mean they'll love us as the Toys," Jerry replied.

Blaine glanced over to Ted for support, but the boy simply shrugged and gave him a look that clearly said "You're on your own, leader." It wasn't too surprising, Blaine guessed, since Ted had been telling him for months that if he was going to be the actual leader he needed to stop worrying so much about whether people liked him all the time. Sometimes leading the group meant he had to make decisions that would be good for them, and this was one of those times. "Do you trust me?" he asked.

There was silence for a long moment, since apparently that hadn't been a question any of them were expecting. A few shifted and shuffled a little, uncomfortable with what he had asked, and finally it was Fitz who replied, "Yeah. We trust you, Blaine."

"Then let's try this once," he suggested. "If it doesn't work, I'll never make you sing another song by girls again - and don't worry, I'm sure the girls watching us won't remember this enough to hold it against us if they don't like it. But the group sounded really great on Tuesday, and I honestly think they'll like us even better. I asked some girls yesterday what they thought, and they didn't think there was anything wrong with it."

That part was kind of a lie. He had asked Janie because she was the only girl he knew well enough to really trust her answer...but she also knew about him and Peter, which made her atypical, and she approved of the relationship which made her downright rare. But it seemed to reassure at least a few of the guys, so he was glad he could say it.

"I wouldn't do this if I thought it would hurt us," he stated, and he saw a few of the guys nod. They did trust him, and he marveled at the fact not for the first time; they knew he wouldn't lead them astray, even if this performance was in part about his own need to express something. He hesitated a moment, then ventured, "So...are we ready to go?"

Triumphant, Blaine led his band of followers across campus, the bounce in his step increasing as they approached the archway. He could see an audience waiting to form already - girls, some of them with boyfriends they had dragged along, hung out nearby, eyeing the arch every few moments to see whether anything was starting just yet. He couldn't imagine the boyfriends would be too happy, not the way these guys performed and got the girls' attention. Then again, if some of the boys wanted to join the Mendicants next year, it was about time to start thinking about that - wasn't it? Now that he knew he would be around and sort-of in charge next year, he should start getting things organized so they could come back even stronger next fall. It would be great to get some new guys involved.

Assuming he didn't destroy their whole reputation with this one song.

He drew in a deep breath and bounced a couple times on his toes to calm the nerves, trying to channel them into energy. Music could never be wrong or destructive - it could only create; it was like love that way, he thought to himself with a sappy smile. Even if it was something new, it could never be bad.

He led the guys to their usual place, and as the group arranged themselves behind him, he watched the lurkers create a semi-circle in front of them. More would fill in once they started singing - they tended to create enough noise and spectacle to draw an audience...and he was pretty sure they wouldn't lose it even though it wasn't the type of song the group usually did. They hadn't lost any fans after singing Sam Cooke, anyway, which wasn't exactly their wheelhouse. He closed his eyes a moment, bringing himself into performance mode, then turned to give the pitch. The sound from the pitchpipe echoed softly in the archway, then reverberated through the group as the guys hummed along.

They would help carry him. They were right there behind him - and this was important. It needed said.

A lot more than this needed said, really, but it was the best he could do and he hoped it would be enough.

Ted counted out the tempo and the group began, the dramatic introduction filling the arches and filtering out into the courtyard. Blaine could see people trying to identify the song, the first few notes not easy to place, and he watched nervously for a reaction once they realized what the performance would be...and who usually sang it. As they got to the more recognizable notes, he could see a few grins and nods - and no signs of a grimmace or mass exile. So far so good.

How gentle is the rain
That falls softly on the meadow?
Birds, high up in the tree
Serenade the flower with their melody

He had spent quite awhile trying to find just the right song to express how he felt, because for once it wasn't an easy thing to decipher. The song, rather - emotions were almost never easy to figure out, but usually he could pick the song that matched it without any trouble. Now, though...most songs he tried were too pleading. They wanted so much more than they had - they craved love, wanted someone to pay attention to them, wanted a lover to be kind, wanted someone to become a boyfriend or girlfriend, but how could anyone want anything more than what he had? How could he possibly ask for more than an incredible boyfriend who loved him and treated him more wonderfully than he had ever imagined? What else could he even think about wanting?

Aside from being able to declare his happiness to the world, that was. But that was definitely a bridge too far. In front of all of campus, and the guys who treated him so well and trusted him? Not in a million years. That just would never be an option. But at least if he could sing something that showed how happy he was...and if Peter came, which he usually did unless he lost track of time, then he would know. He would see how great Blaine felt and know he was the reason for it, and that would at least convey what Blaine couldn't find the words for. Which meant he really just hoped Peter showed up.

Oh see there beyond the hill
The bright colours of the rainbow
Some magic from above
Made this day for us
Just to fall in love

He could imagine them on a picnic together like this - just the two of them, grassy hills, and open sky, where no one could see them so they could touch and kiss as much as they wanted. That kind of freedom- even though they couldn't do that, it was how he felt when they were together. Like he could do anything, be who he was, just be free-

He beamed as he saw a bowler hat bobbing above the growing crowd. He hadn't seen that particular cap before but he could guess whose head it adorned. His chest ached, so full of emotion and gratitude and love that he swore if it got any more intense it would burst like an overinflated balloon, and he sang all the harder to try to get out everything inside him. He had to sing it because otherwise he would explode and might say something he regretted...or just be too unfocused to be worth much of anything to anyone around him.

Now I belong to you
From this day until forever
So love me tenderly
And I'll give ot you every part of me

He caught sight of Peter's grin, wide and proud as ever, and Blaine wasn't sure he had ever felt so jubilant in his life, so light on his feet, so completely right. That boy loved him - that one right there, the one with the gorgeous eyes and the adoring expression and the mental card catalog of every book ever featuring, referencing, or skirting around a homosexual character. The one who had pulled him out of a drunken stupor and taught him so much and still loved him despite knowing everything that was wrong with him, every flaw and fear and moment of self-loathing...that boy right there, that incredible young man, loved him. Honestly, how could there be a song about wanting anything that could apply to him? How could any of the broken hearts or unquenched desires compare in the least to the depth of what he felt?

He wished he could really sing it to him - to pull him up onstage and proclaim to everyone that this was the reason he was able to perform like this, to feel this way - this man, right here, who had been more patient than Blaine or anyone else had any right to ask, who had taken care of him when he was a mess and carried him home and cleaned up after him and helped so much- who took him out to expensive dinners at new restaurants and ordered his favourite kind of Chinese food when he had to study, who hummed bits of jazz melodies while he highlighted his notes but swore up and down he didn't sing, who practically needed an entire room for his bowties and hats and suspenders and wingtips...this was the boy who made him feel like he could do anything.

He couldn't, of course. He knew he couldn't. They couldn't. But he could sing in Peter's direction and make sure the boy he loved knew it.

Oh, don't ever make me cry
Through long, lonely nights without you
Be always true to me
Keep this day in your heart eternally

Peter placed his hand over his heart, meeting Blaine's eyes with his own watery expression, and Blaine had to focus hard to keep his mind on the music as they entered the bridge. He had brought it back to its classical roots to appease some of the more traditional Mendicants, hoping that the acapella homage to Puccini would add something a little less...Supremes-like to the number. Unfortunately, it did mean that during the most difficult part of the music, he was staring the boy he loved who looked deeply moved by the entire display, which did nothing to help his concentation level. Clearly he understood what Blaine was trying to say, and he felt the same, and somehow that only increased the pressure in his chest, to the point where it made his eyes well up even more than at dinner the night they had fondue and Peter said he was proud.

If singing a girl song was a potential threat to their credibility with girls, as the rest of the group maintained, Blaine was sure that tearing up in the middle of the performance really wouldn't help. He flashed the best smile he could at Peter then forced his gaze elsewhere just long enough to throw himself back into the performance - as a put-together musician instead of a lovestruck boy who was about to melt at his boyfriend's smile.

It didn't last, though; he kept sneaking glances back at his boyfriend who, standing almost smack in the middle of the group, had to be blocking at least a dozen people's view thanks to his height and his hat...but he wouldn't move. He wanted to watch Blaine and have the best vantage point, and nothing was about to stop him.

Someday we shall return
To this place upon the meadow
We'll walk out in the rain
Hear the birds above singing once again
Oh you hold me in your arms
And say once again you love me
And, if your love is true
Everything will be just as wonderful

He could imagine having everything with Peter. He could picture it all in a way he had never been able to make out beyond a foggy sense of things he didn't have - a house, a family, an enormous library with one wall of shelves devoted entirely to albums...it would be ornate but warm, he was certain of it; for the first time, those two didn't see mutually exclusive. They would wake in the mornings in the perfect bed, and after a quick shared breakfast Peter would go to whichever college was lucky enough to have him teaching there, and he would head over to a high school where he could make sure the music students he taught knew that there was nothing wrong with them or how they felt or what songs they liked.

He had tried to picture a future before, he had tried so hard - when Kurt had insisted, and for five years with girls as he attempted in vain to make any of it feel the way he wanted his life to be, but now... Maybe it really did just take the right person. Maybe it was just about understanding how it felt to be in love.

...He had been before, he knew that, but in realizing it too late he had missed this sensation and been left only with the agony and mourning of a love gone by. This was much sweeter.

You'll hold me in your arms
And say once again you love me
And, if your love if true,
Everything will be just as wonderful

He liked to think Kurt would be proud of him for this. Of all the people he had ever met, that boy was the one person who really understood how any feeling in the universe could be summed up by a song. And he hoped-...the idea of Kurt with someone else, someone who wasn't him, made him ache and yearn and wish so acutely, but...he hoped Kurt had found what he dreamed of. He hoped the boy he had been too afraid to love had found someone who understood just how amazing he was and treated him accordingly. He knew Kurt was doing something amazing in New York because there was nothing that could stop him from getting what he wanted, and he...he really, really hoped Kurt had his apartment with the dinner parties and the evenings by the record player.

Kurt deserved that. He deserved everything. He deserved, certainly, to be as happy as Blaine was now.

Though he would have been happier if he could let go of the regret just a little, to be glad for how far he had come and let himself love without guilt. He didn't know why he couldn't let the memories go, as painful and unfortunate as they were. Maybe at least that way it would keep him from making the same mistake again - though he had no idea how he could possibly make the same mistake with Peter around. Peter wouldn't let him run, just flat out wouldn't let him. Would chase him down and make him work his way through his fears.

And sure, maybe if things had been reversed, if he had met Peter first and been able to be secure in himself and accept everything, and then met Kurt- maybe things would have been different. He could imagine that clearly. But...they hadn't, and this was how things were. More importantly, things were good - they were better than good. Nothing could be better than this. Nothing in the world. The girls were swaying and grinning and mouthing along as they watched the boys, so clearly the Mendicants wouldn't mind doing this again, and Blaine didn't see a single guy snickering about their choice in music, and in the center of it all was his boyfriend - his bowtie-wearing, bowler-derby-clad, unfailingly patient boyfriend beaming at him, as jubilant and proud as ever.

And that was certainly a reason to celebrate.

You'll hold me in your arms
And say once again you love me
And, if your love is true,
Everything will be just as wonderful