Blaine peered over Kurt's shoulder into his vanity mirror. "The most important thing here is a good smolder. Don't say anything; tempt me with your eyes. Words you can get all wrong, but a good seductive look never fails."

Kurt tried to mimic the quirk of Blaine's eyebrow and the purse of his lips. He may have a degree in acting but no one had ever expected him to sell sensuality. He could cry on command or deliver a damn good soliloquy but Romantic Lead wasn't in his wheelhouse. That wasn't an expected role from him. Blaine made it look effortless.

"Tone it down a bit, Kurt; you don't want to look like a preteen Disney starlet's MySpace page."

Kurt tried again. He watched himself in the mirror all the time. He rehearsed not only lines from a script but everyday conversations – most of which he never had but at least he was prepared for. He did not have any lines prepared for this type of situation.

Blaine's voice drew his attention back. "I want you to think about sex."

"What about sex?"

There was the higher pitch again. Blaine laughed but at least he didn't make Kurt feel like he was the joke.

"Good sex," Blaine teased. Along with seductive looks, Blaine had his seductive voice that he used without discretion. Kurt fell for it every time. Blaine wanted to show him a new café or asked to borrow a scarf/Kurt's copy of Vogue/his new brightening peel with that voice and Kurt melted. Kurt would agree immediately. The copy of Vogue he understood his willingness to grant, he could replace that on any street corner, and maybe the skin care items that he hadn't developed strong attachments to, but no one was allowed access to his scarves no matter how darling they might look in the new one by Marc Jacobs.

This time there was nothing to give. "Blaine, I haven't –"

"Sex you want to have. I'm sure you have fantasies. You've thought about what you want."

Kurt tugged at his collar. Temperature at Dalton must fluctuate like mad. Blaine laughed again and tugged Kurt's hand away. Blaine's touches were constant but not unwelcome. Most likely Blaine didn't notice he was doing it. Kurt stopped functioning whenever Blaine captured his hand. This time was no exception. He gapped, fishlike, with all sensible thoughts deserting him.

"You said you've had a boyfriend before," Blaine said coyly. Blaine had a way of playing with words to endear himself to whomever he was teasing that worked so well on Kurt. The topic wasn't worth blushing over and Kurt blushed anyway.

"One of the keys to looking sexy is feeling like you're sexy. You can fake a lot but feeling desired is a good base to build on. So. Remind yourself what that feels like."

He hadn't felt sexy around the boyfriend. That had been the whole problem. Kurt felt like he was playing catch-up the entire time, feigning intimacy with someone he didn't feel intimate with. Throughout that short-lived relationship, he remembered feeling insecure andmaybelike he was useful as a convenient means of achieving sex (theoretically) but never like he, himself, was sexy. It had never made him feel anything but anxious.

"Maybe sexy just isn't a look I can pull off."

"Impossible," Blaine breathed.

Kurt shifted under his gaze. "You've certainly got it down."

Blaine had made no more attempts to sleep with him after the first night when they met. Kurt's overactive imagination was at work again. Blaine was acting. Combine (feigned) interest with disarming sweetness and Kurt lost all sense. Crushes came hard and fast for Kurt and no matter how much Kurt argued to himself that frequently visiting Blaine was just for the sake of the show, Blaine was easy to fantasize about. It would be easier on Kurt's boundaries if Blaine had a horrid personality but instead he was sweet. Inappropriate and mortifying but sweet underneath all that.

"How about love?" Blaine's voice pitched low, "Would it be easier to think about being in love and build from there? That's what you want, right? We could work with that. Everyone's flattered by an adoring look."

Didn't Kurt know it. Had Blaine been practicing on him and Kurt just bought into it unwittingly? He could swear he got those looks, too. He remembered because, out of all Blaine's goofy expressions, they were his favorite.

Kurt snorted indelicately to shake that line of thought. Picturing Blaine in love was cute (picturing Blaine doing pretty much anything was cute). But Blaine was asking for Kurt in love and Kurt in love was a disaster.

"It's not for me," Kurt replied dryly. He might have better luck pretending to be sexy, lost cause though it was.

"Right, me neither," Blaine agreed quickly. "Better in theory than in actuality." Blaine busied his hands, straightening up his vanity.

Kurt triedone of those looksagain. A former action coach recommended finding a close enough emotion to drawn on when he couldn't relate perfectly to what a character was experiencing. Unfortunately, 'look like you want sex' and 'think about cake' weren't a convincing match. Maybe it would work if he took himself out of the equation entirely and thought aboutThe Notebook. He didn't want to ruin that with faked emotion as part of a con, though. MaybeBound.

"I'm assuming saying love isn't for you ties to the no sex thing. You seem like the type to believe in love though. Sensitive writer and all."

"One begets the other."

"I assumed you a least wanted love. You said that's why you've waited."

"There's a difference betweenwantandshould pursue. For both."Wantwas complicated because it often came with unwelcome consequences. He felt compelled to explain to Blaine despite how private and not his business it was. "I have to believe in love: I fall in it all the time, I do ridiculous things in its name, and I embarrass myself, and I let people stomp all over my heart. And I used to tell myself that one of these days it just has to be right. But it's not worth it. Most of the time it's all in my head anyway."

"I think you just explained my life to me," Blaine breathed. He laughed it off. "I'm trying to imagine what lovesick Kurt is like. You're so independent."

Kurt never felt crestfallen over being called independent before – he usually prided himself on his self-reliance. But juxtaposed against being in love . . . It was his own fault for reinterpreting 'independent' as 'alone by necessity,' which wasn't far from the truth either. Add in Kurt's struggled with physical intimacy and a stubborn streak that resisted feeling coddled or humored even in his most unreasonable moments of throwing up walls and of course no one would want to work through that.

Blaine was lucky Kurt kept his more lovesick tendencies in check. So far. He didn't like himself very much when he let himself fall. Fragile, heart on his sleeve. In his mind, he regressed to someone smaller and softer so that when he saw his reflection he was surprisingly reminded by the angles and a carefully cultivated air of haughtiness that he was no longer that version of himself. Seeing his reflection now, Kurt had no desire to go back.

"It gets in the way, anyway. I have better ways to occupy my time. I like spending my time bettering myself instead of trying and failing to improve someone else."

"You're not as jaded as you pretend to be," Blaine guessed.

Kurt waved it off. Everyone put on airs. He might not be this distant version of himself either but at least it's an affect he's comfortable with. Without the affect he's too much what he was. Love-struck Kurt won't be able to do a damned thing he planned.

Blaine's hand fell against his arm again. "One day, if you want it, I absolutely believe you're meant to be in love."

Kurt watched Blaine and his own reflection in the mirror. He hated being coddled, but he knew Blaine was sincere in the sentiment. In everything.

"I think it's precious." Blaine spun him around, away from looking at his own reflection and up a Blaine's open grin. "Let's work on your moans. Words you can get all wrong but a good moan..."

***

"I want to be past the point in my life where I feel like this! I'm so much older now, why does it feel the same?" Kurt lamented over the phone to Tina. It was Friday night, and he was flung across his bed whining to one of his oldest friends about boy troubles.Whining. What an unattractive quality. Add horrible junk food and he might as well be in high school again. He quite liked that idea, actually, and rolled onto his back to see if that would give him a little more motivation to go retrieve said junk food from the kitchen.

"Are you expecting to eventually grow out of being yourself?"

"Ideally," Kurt grumbled. He knew letting Blaine into his life could spell trouble, given Blaine's level of attractiveness and his own history of inappropriate, inconvenient crushes. But he was older, and wiser, and thought he could maybe avoid it this time.

"There's a difference betweenmaturityanda personality switch," Tina laughed. "Maybe falling hard is just what you do. Blaine's a nice guy. Just let yourself feel what you're feeling. It might end in heartbreak, but most things do."

"Maybe."

Kurt fantasized frequently and vividly about falling in love. He had his lonely spells. He hated how he felt in actuality but the fantasy was so nice. As long as the fantasy was contained to movie stars or nondescript men who resembled no one he knew, he was fine. Allowing crushes to run their course didn't work so neatly when they were on people he had to interact with, particularly if he wanted to seem like a normal human being during said interactions.

That was the problem with Blaine. Blaine was supposed to make men fall in love with him. He probably hadn't done so intentionally. The best course of action was to stop the crush before it started. Or at least shortly thereafter. Pining didn't suit him. He was too old to blush this much. If he wasn't careful, his entire repertoire would become torch songs;Love, Look Awaywas already stuck in his head constantly. He'd prefer to leave those to Rachel, thank you very much. Sentimental love songs weren't his style. Not anymore.

Kurt sat back up. He needed a plan. He was good about planning and working toward goals. Plan #1 to avoid developing a crush – or at least prevent it from developing further – was to focus on Blaine's flaws. He grabbed a pen and notebook.

"What are some of Blaine's less attractive qualities?" Kurt asked into the phone.

"If you have to ask this isn't going to work," Tina sang in response. "You have a pros and cons list going already?"

"Just cons, thank you." Thinking about how amazing Blaine was would help no one.

"What did you put besides the obvious one?"

"If there was something obviously wrong with him I wouldn't need your help! Have you seen him?" Thinking about Blaine's gorgeous appearance really wouldn't help.

Tina giggled. "Call me back when you think of it."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Fine, don't help." He hung up and set about his list.

'Tiny' was never a quality Kurt thought he would appreciate and standing next to Blaine made him feel gangly and coltish in a way that he'd never felt so extremely before. Probably just because Blaine was so fit. If he put his both hands on Blaine's waist he bet he could . . . Kurt scolding himself for thinking he could find a physical flaw that would stick. He couldn't allow for distractions.

On the flaw two, then: no concept of personal space. The real problem was that Kurt didn't mind Blaine crossing his boundaries because it turned out he didn't have many for Blaine and if he told Blaine he did Blaine would stick to them like Kurt's word was law. Dwelling on how much he didn't mind Blaine touching him would do no good.

Blaine's tendency to switch into sexy-whisper mode never failed to make Kurt's knees buckle, which wasn't a flaw of Blaine's at all.

Blaine told him to think of something sexy. Surely that gave him permission to . . . no. No, no, no. Blaine was objectified by everyone. Despite the unusual circumstances, they were friends. He'd like them to stay friends. It was hard to not let his thoughts wander when it came to Blaine. His well toned arms. The sweep of his dark curls. Those unfairly long lashes. The way he leaned into Kurt when they sat close.

Kurt pushed himself out of bed. He'd have to try to stomp out his crush on Blaine later. All he succeeded in doing was add more kindling for that damn torch song.

***

Awards littered his agent's office shelves and ranged from the obscure to what looked like an Oscar. Kurt uncharitably assumed she pried them away from her weaker-willed clients who earned them. Kurt crossed his legs to keep himself from jittering. Santana's presence in the office didn't bode well for the meeting with an undisclosed purpose given how little his agent otherwise cared for him or his career. Santana glared at his foot entering her space.

"So, Porcelain. I hear you got a gig. You didn't like what I was throwing your way?"

"Nothing? I've gotten better offers," Kurt said with an overly light tone, already on the defensive. The only job Sue secured for him in the last year was as an occasional babysitter for her daughter, Robin. His last real job he found on his own. Once upon a time, his agent intimidated him and he strove to impress her, hoping she could find the same success for him she found for Santana (which, so far, amounted to a locally run pawn shop commercial). Now he wondered what she had done for him lately. Besides give him a 'stage name' of her own choosing that he'd never use.

"I would not have pegged you as the one I would have to drag in here to say DON'T SLEEP WITH WHO YOU'RE TRYING TO WORK FOR!"

Kurt didn't even flinch. Santana smirked beside him.

Sue leaned across her desk. "Just say the words 'this is not an act of desperation on my part upon realizing I'm getting older and need to be sufficiently famous before there's a chance that the only male thing I inherit from my father is followed by the wordspattern baldness.'Say those words to me, Porcelain, and you have my permission, nay, myblessingto throw yourself at Broadway's biggest man-whore and let him have his great white way with you because at least then you'll be showing self-awareness in your stupidity."

Kurt clamped his hands in his lap to resist checking his hair. Showing insecurities to Sue was a rookie mistake. On the other hand, focusing on vanity and the one trait he absolutely didn't want to inherit meant he wouldn't have to think about how if he was more like his dad – if he respected his dad's wishes – he wouldn't try to cheat his way to a better job. His intended way of securing funds was one of two secrets he'd want to keep from his dad, and the only one that was his choice.

"I'm running out of time. It can take years to get a show off the ground. With my voice, the only thing I can count on playing isyoung."

"Let's not rule out androgynous school marm. Keebler elf. Most inanimate or otherwise nonhuman entities that inexplicably must be able to sing. How have we not found a part for you yet?"

"Will Schuester was the only response I got," Kurt admitted through gritted teeth.

"Will Schuester loves the sweet smell of desperate actor pouring off of you as much as I do. You're not, by any stretch of imagination, even to something resembling yourmid-twenties. Your experience is limited to middling theatre companies no one's heard of. Of course no one wants to hand your fresh face a Broadway role yet and you're acting like you're sunsetting. In this business, you want a squeaky clean reputation. Speaking of, Santana, bikini car wash commercial is a go if you want it."

"I want the deets before I agree to anything," Santana sang.

"It pays," Sue deadpanned.

Kurt realized actors had a warped sense of age, but so did producers. Early twenties might not be early enough. For now he could play a lot younger than his actual age with some suspended disbelief about his height. Once he stopped being young the few parts open to him would disappear, Sue's offer of playingfurnitureaside.

Sue slid a magazine across the desk at him. "I heard about your gig fromTrashy Mag Weekly. Wouldn't have even known it was about you if they hadn't said the name of your silly musical. They're wondering which starlet is willing to ruin her reputation for him. This hypothetical girl doesn't exist and she's done for. The gossip will take longer to start about you – might have to cycle through conventional choices in your cast like Santana here first – but it's coming and tired old casting couch rumors that are already assumed about your gal pals are so much more interesting with a new gay twist. If you decide to pursue this nonsense with Will Schuester, you'll need him to find you a new agent as well. You won't be one of Sue's Kids anymore."

"So you're saying the usual perks of being a boy don't apply to me? Or that everything has its price? That's not news." Kurt swung his bag over his shoulder. "You can let me know if the Keebler elves come calling. I'll let you know the name of thetheatre on Broadwaywhere I'll be."

He left the magazine on the desk.

***

Kurt held onto his anger on the elevator ride down to main floor and let it power his quick stride out the building. Kurt turned on Santana as soon as she caught up with him on the street.

"Wasn't hiring Blaine meddling enough? Now you've gone beyond wrecking havoc in my personal life to actively trying to ruin my career before there's even that much to ruin."

Resenting Santana for Blaine didn't seem possible because of how fond he'd grown of New York's preppiest prostitute, but the level at which she invited herself into making Kurt's choices for him set a horrible precedent for the rest of his meddling friends. Sue wasn't meant to know of his intentions with Will. No one was supposed to know.

"Oh, please. You're not that upset about Sue dropping you. You like her even less than everyone else does."

If it was possible to become more livid Kurt would be for being told how he felt. "You think you know what's best for me but you don't. I won't be manipulated by you and your dubious good intentions, if that's even your motivation because right now I think attempting to humiliate me is your only game plan." Getting fired as a client bruised his feelings but he'd recover. Santana intentionally caused that hurt. Because she was bored or jealous or finally had something she could feel morally superior about.

Santana didn't look the least bit impressed. "I've got eight years of experience on you. Eight years."

"That's notallyou did for eight years, I assume," Kurt drawled. He wouldn't trade places with her. Not for that experience now and definitely not for sleeping with the whole high school football team in a play for social status – not that that would have worked for him anyway. Even now she spent so much time trying to be desirable to men she didn't even want. He didn't really wanted Will either, but he wanted what Will could give him more than anything. "I thought that was just a rumor."

"I screwed a lot of unnecessary guys. Total waste of time. Wasting time isn't the worst thing; you watch enough reality TV to know it can be enjoyable enough as long as your expectations are low. And my expectations were virtually nonexistent."

Kurt winced and tried to cover it with a look that was more haughtiness and less sympathy. "You want to save me from the error of your ways and tell me what the worst thing is, I suppose, and how I'm walking right into it."

Santana flung her hands up in frustration. "You know what, no. you're a waste of time. Forgive me for thinking I know what you want better than you do. Make whatever stupid decisions you want."

***

Work with Will came in fits and spurts, as if Will forgot about the show entirely until he called up Kurt and needed something immediately. Arrangements needed to be made for a rehearsal space and a performance space. Casting needed to be official. As far as Kurt knew Will never read the script but he still insisted changes needed to be made. Kurt's nervousness around Will persisted, afraid at any moment Will would call out "never mind!" and it would all disappear as quickly as it came. Kurt's effusive outpour of gratitude continued like he had no filter or carefully cultivated air of haughtiness to speak of, embarrassing himself further even if Will didn't seem to mind.

In the times between show errands and real life Kurt visited Blaine. The crush persisted, as did Blaine's determination to "help." His friends agreed to be his cast so much less of a fight than Kurt expected – no one whined about moral qualms or tried to change his mind, not even Santana had something to say – but the most rewarding part was Blaine's happiness at being included. Kurt got the feeling Blaine almost didn't expect it, which made him feel terrible for even momentarily contemplating deleting Blaine's number and ignoring his help.

Will had yet to try to touch him. On his more optimistic days Kurt liked to think he misread the entire situation. Maybe Will was just a profoundly lonely man with the best of intentions and a poor grasp of boundaries. Which made it all for the best that he met them out of order and pantsed himself for Blaine, leaving Will none the wiser to Kurt's feeble attempt at seduction. Will knew Kurt only as a babbling child who needed to be rescued. The silly Sexy Lessons with Blaine could be for nothing (a comforting thought). Kurt could go back to never needing to be desirable again.

He doubted Blaine would voice the same optimism so he kept the wishful thinking to himself.

***

A plain sheet of office paper with the name of the show and the opening date was taped to the door of the theatre when they arrived. It wasn't a big thing like his name in lights, but Kurt's breath caught in his throat at the sight. Here was solid, tangible proof that the show was going to happen. That piece of paper made it real. Still temporary, and easily removed, but real. The promise of something more, like his workshop was the promise of an actual run on Broadway or at least the next best thing.

"How does it feel to have your dreams come true?" Will squeezed Kurt's waist when he ushered him inside. "Tell me what it means to you."

Gratitude washed over Kurt. The theatre was more majestic than he imagined. The stage wasn't much bigger than the last, but it was raised, giving at least the illusion of grandeur. This whole thing was surreal – his luck changed so quickly. He beamed up at Will, who'd been nothing but kind and encouraging and a little clueless (more than a little) about working relationship boundaries. All Kurt knew was gossip. All anyone knew was gossip. That didn't tell him what kind of man Will was.

Will shifted impatiently. "That isn't an answer," he prompted.

Kurt's wide smile faltered. He hadn't meant to ignore Will. "Oh. I. Everything. It means everything."

Will didn't reply. He kept waiting expectantly.

Kurt searched for the words a writer was supposed to have. All the previous gushing ran together in his head. "I'm sorry; I'm not saying this eloquently. I think I'm overwhelmed. Seeing the theatre makes everything seem more real than it did before." He paused for a moment to see if he had any effect on his mentor. Will's face remained unreadable. "Thank you, Will."

"Call me Mr. Schuester," Will corrected.

The request startled Kurt. He hadn't addressed Will –Mr. Schuester– by name but had been mentally referring to him as Will so far. Kurt associated using titles and surnames with states a lot further south than his native Ohio, and only for children who were addressing adults. No one he knew addressed their colleagues this way. But in a way it made sense: Will was a big deal, Kurt wasn't, and if Will wanted a title Kurt would give him a title. He'd call his benefactor whatever he wanted to be called.

"Tell me I'm changing your life."

"You're changing my life?" Kurt didn't know what to make of this sudden, more demanding change in Mr. Schuester. Was Kurt not grateful enough? The words were true. Surely Mr. Schuester realized the impact he had.

"Tell me I'm making you realize your dreams."

"You are."

Again Mr. Schuester waited expectantly.

"You're making me realize my dreams?" He felt less like an actor being fed line and more like a child being scolded. How much satisfaction could Mr. Schuester get from Kurt just parroting lines back at him?

"Since I'm doing so much for you, I think it's only fair you do something for me."

***

"Hello, Angel of Death," Blaine greeted with a smile upon Kurt's arrival at Dalton's steps.

Kurt waited for an explanation.

"Your clothes scream 'don't touch me.'" Blaine reached out to touch anyway. He ran his fingers over the spikes on Kurt's jacket shoulders and then the studded bowtie at his throat. "But I can touch you so I know you're not a ghost."

Kurt held perfectly still as Blaine played with the spikes. Injuring Blaine with clothes that came with a warning was the last thing he wanted. His voice came out soft. "It's just fashion."

"Can I get a hug?"

Kurt nodded. Blaine slipped his hands around his waist to avoid the shoulder spikes. Kurt relaxed into the touch. Rachel was the only other person who thought to ask his permission. It felt nice: both the asking and the physical connection.

Blaine accompanied him to a magazine stand for Kurt to purchase his own copy of the article Sue mentioned a few weeks prior so he could have it before it went out of distribution. Kurt tucked it away in his bag to ponder on at a later date, when he could allow himself to think of such things.