The next morning Kurt and Blaine had a quick breakfast of cereal and fruit and headed over to NYADA.  Despite his earlier trepidation, Blaine was actually feeling pretty good about the upcoming concert.  Surprising what a night of sex with your long lost love could do, he thought to himself, grinning.  Not that a few mind-blowing orgasms with his amazing boyfriend could turn his life completely around or anything, but it sure didn't hurt.

Blaine was grateful to Kurt for getting them the use of the round room for a few hours.  The story was that the acoustics of the room were so perfect, there was nowhere to hide.  It also apparently made your voice sound different to your own ears, although Blaine didn't think that would be a problem, even if true.  He had performed with enough faulty mic systems in his time that he doubted a room with perfect acoustics was going to be more of a challenge.  At least there wouldn't be feedback.

The tradeoff for getting to practice in the performance space was that they had to be at NYADA at eight in the morning.  But they were both pretty good at getting out of bed when they needed to, and shortly after eight one of the office assistants let them in, fawning over Kurt and ignoring Blaine entirely.  “I bring her homemade brownies every so often,” Kurt explained.  “She's a sucker for cream cheese frosting.  Goes a long way towards getting first dibs on rehearsal space.” 

Blaine took a few minutes to look around the room.  It was really a beautiful space, wood paneling everywhere, no corners to twist the sound.  His cane thunked softly as he walked.  Music aside, he was going to have to figure out the logistics of this mess, too.

Kurt noticed him standing at the front of the room, and came up to join him.  “Penny for your thoughts?”

“What am I going to do with the cane?”  No point in beating around the bush, the whole goal of this exercise was to get through these problems before tomorrow night.

“Well,” Kurt looked around.  “I guess it depends a little bit on what you're singing.  You said you were going to play the piano for one of the pieces, right?”

Blaine nodded.

“And for the other one, do you want to maybe stand by the piano, so you can put a hand on it if you need to?  Or I can bring out a few stools and see if one of those feels right?”    Kurt went through a door that Blaine could have sworn was more carefully hidden than something out of Harry Potter, and came back with two stools, one sort of bar stool height and one a bit lower.  He put them in the front of the room, in the middle, and let Blaine try each of them out.  The taller one felt pretty good, but he still didn't have anywhere to put his cane except on the floor.  Guess that would have to do.  He tried standing next to the stool, with a hand resting on it – that worked pretty well also.  But he didn't think he could move from sitting to standing while singing, he was just too likely to fall over. 

After some further experimentation, Kurt made Blaine walk from where he'd be sitting in the audience up to the front, and then back again, until Blaine just started to feel silly.  “Okay, enough practice walking.  I feel like I'm rehearsing for an award ceremony instead of singing a few songs.” 

Kurt laughed.  “Getting ahead of yourself a little bit, aren't you?”

Blaine blushed.  “I was thinking of high school honor society, not the Tonys, Kurt.”  And definitely not high school graduation, which he had missed, stuck in the hospital. 

“Don't know why,” Kurt teased, a fond expression on his face.  “So, any chance I'm going to actually hear you sing this fine morning?”

“Yeah, I think it's now or never.”  Blaine pulled his iPod out of his pocket.  “I can't believe they'll have a live orchestra playing for us tomorrow.”

“And they're really good, too.  Not that our glee club band wasn't good, but…”

“I suppose we were pretty lucky to have a band for glee club, weren't we.” 

“We were.  Now stop stalling, and sing for me.”

-----

As soon as the music began, Kurt knew he was in trouble.  Whatever coffee house vibe Blaine had been going for back when he sang to Kurt in the garden, this was something entirely different.  His strong, smooth tenor was captivating, and his presence, even just in rehearsal, was enchanting.

I have often walked down this street before;
But the pavement always stayed beneath my feet before.
All at once am I

Several stories high.
Knowing Im on the street where you live.

Kurt actually thought that having to stand still was adding to the strength of Blaine's performance.  He was forced to pour every bit of emotion into his voice and his eyes, not waste anything on twirls and spins.

Are there lilac trees in the heart of town?
Can you hear a lark in any other part of town?
Does enchantment pour

Out of evry door?
No, its just on the street where you live!

Kurt moved from the front of the auditorium to the back, watching Blaine's eyes travel slowly across the room and lock onto his again.

And oh! The towering feeling
Just to know somehow you are near.
The overpowering feeling
That any second you may suddenly appear!

Blaine's tone changed just the slightest bit for the last verse, sweeter, with almost a hint of a tremble.  Kurt was so mesmerized he didn't notice someone else come into the room.

People stop and stare. They dont bother me.
For theres no where else on earth that I would rather be.
Let the time go by, I wont care if I
Can be here on the street where you live.

“Bravo, bravo, Blaine!  That was amazing!”  Rachel was racing up the center of the room towards Blaine, catching him in a big hug that almost knocked him right over.  “You have clearly been hard at work while I was away.  Once a worthy duet partner, always a worthy duet partner.  Bravo!”

Kurt came up next to Blaine, waiting for Rachel to wind down and let go.  Blaine turned to Kurt, eyes wide and face so open and earnest it almost broke him apart.  “What did you think?”

Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's shoulders and whispered in his ear.  “Sweetheart, you were fabulous.  You have nothing to worry about.  Nothing.”  Blaine nodded, and Kurt felt him let out a long breath. Blaine had to know he could do this.  Kurt pulled back and rubbed his hands up and down Blaine's arms, smiling broadly at him.  “All right, that's one's acceptable.”

“No notes?”

“No notes.”

“I've got one,” Rachel piped up.  Shit, Kurt thought, he was perfect.  Don't wreck his confidence.

“Okay, tell me.”  Blaine picked up his cane and leaned on it, shoulders tight, as if he was waiting for a blow.

Rachel giggled.  “Be sure to let it be known that you're taken, otherwise every guy and girl in this room is going to want your number.”

Blaine blushed, and Kurt just groaned.  “What are you doing here anyway, Rachel?”

“I had to stop by and fill out some paperwork.”  Rachel spun a bit at the front of the room, then taking a little bow.  “And Sam mentioned that you had reserved this room, so I thought I'd stop by….”

“Rachel, this is Blaine's time,” Kurt chided.  Not that he'd mind hearing Rachel sing, but not necessarily right now.

“No, it's fine, Kurt.”  Blaine turned to Rachel and smiled.  “I'm glad you're here, that's one more person that I won't have to be nervous singing in front of tomorrow.”

“See?”  Rachel raised her eyebrows at Kurt.  “Always the gentleman.”

“How about we stop wasting time and let Blaine rehearse his second piece?”  Kurt suggested, dragging Rachel away to a seat in the middle of the room.  “You sit here and see how he projects.” 

Blaine sat down at the piano and closed his eyes, focusing.  He began the piano introduction, and Kurt chuckled at his selection.  It was “Somewhere That's Green,” from Little Shop of Horrors.  But as soon as Blaine started singing, Kurt fell in love just a little bit more.

A matchbox of our own

Somewhere thats green.

Blaine was singing gently, slowed down, as if each word was being shaped on his lips for the first time right at that moment.  It gave a whole new definition to the term lyrical.

She rakes and trims the grass

Somewhere thats green.

The description of the 1950's vision of paradise was soothing, a fantasy of a poor, trapped city kid.  Kurt was enthralled.  It could be him Blaine was singing to, of course.  A place of their own, somewhere that was fresh and clean, not tainted with the small minds of Ohio.  That had been their dream, back in high school. 

Between our frozen dinner

On our big, enormous twelve-inch screen.

Blaine filled the words with longing, singing tenderly and sweetly, purposely giving more color and texture to his voice than when he sang “On The Street.” 

She's my December Bride

Somewhere thats green.

Kurt barely let Blaine finish the piano accompaniment before he was next to him on the piano bench, kissing him soundly.  Finally he pulled back, a little embarrassed at his own reaction. 

Blaine was blinking and beaming, ignoring Rachel as she joined them by the piano, wiping her eyes.  “Mandy Patinkin would be proud, Blaine.  That was beautiful.”

Kurt had to force himself to drag his eyes away from Blaine's, which were gazing at him sweetly, and turn his attention to Rachel.  “Oh, is that where I heard those lyrics before?”  Kurt asked.

“He changed the genders around when he recorded it.”  Blaine bit his lip.  “You don't think it's wrong to do his version, though?”

Kurt and Rachel both shook their heads.  “There was nothing wrong with that performance.”  Kurt assured him.  “The things you can do with your voice, Blaine.  The tone –“

“And so emotional,” Rachel interrupted.  “Almost delicate, but very determined.  There's not going to be a dry eye in the house.”  She leaned over and stretched to pull both Kurt and Blaine into a hug, squishing them together on the bench.  “I'm so happy I'm coming back to New York,” she squealed.  “We're all going to have so much fun together!”

-----

Several hours later, Blaine met Sam at their favorite burrito place.  They squeezed into a tiny corner booth, Blaine's backpack and cane shoved under the table, elbows knocking into each other as they unwrapped their selections. 

“So, you excited about tomorrow?”  Sam asked as he maneuvered the end of his burrito into a plastic cup of sour cream.

“Yeah, I actually am.”  Blaine gave up on eating the burrito with his hands and picked up the knife and fork he had convinced the kid behind the counter to give him.  “Kurt and Rachel seem to think I'll do okay.”

“I don't think so,” Sam said, his eyes teasing.  He waited a beat for Blaine to raise his eyebrows at him questioningly.  “I think you're going to be awesome!”  Sam wiped his hand on his shorts and pulled out his phone.  “Look at this text from Rachel:  We better hang on tight to Blaine or someone's going to snap him up.”

“What does that even mean?”  Blaine asked, smiling at Sam's enthusiasm.  “She really does know that Kurt and I are together, right?  I'm not exactly looking to be snapped up.”

Sam shrugged.  “Guess she's just possessive.” He bumped his shoulder against Blaine's.  “Better get in line.”  Even though Sam hadn't seen Blaine sing this morning, he was damn proud of him.  He knew how hard it had been for him to get to this point.  The first few times they performed together at open mic nights, Blaine was so nervous Sam thought he might pass out, or throw up.  But it had gotten easier, and Blaine had been letting himself enjoy it more, Sam could tell.  Especially after he got into Carmen Tibideaux's audition-only extension school class.  It was as if he needed that bit of outside affirmation to reassure him that he was good enough.  Having Kurt praise him, though, that was like winning an Olympic gold medal.

“So, I wanted to talk to you about something,” Blaine said tentatively, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

“What's up?”

Blaine's eyes darted back and forth.  “Um, thanks for having me meet your new therapist yesterday.  He seemed nice…”

Sam almost laughed at Blaine's attempt to casually bring up the subject.  Sometimes he was just too damn polite for his own good.  “I'm sorry you liked him.  You'll never see him again.”

“Why not?”  Blaine looked worried now.

“Because he's a giant asswipe, and I'm never seeing him again?”

“Really?”  Blaine breathed out.

“Really.  I called Betsy yesterday afternoon, and she's going to talk to the coordinator at NYU and find someone else.  There's no point in spilling my guts to someone if he's not interested in helping me, right?”

“Right.”  Blaine was playing with a paper napkin, folding it into tinier and tinier pieces.  “I admit I'm relieved.  I got a weird vibe from him, and I was afraid, I don't know, he just didn't seem like a good match for you.”

“I'm not sure how he'd be a good match for anybody.”  Sam poked Blaine again, getting his attention.  “You were going to tell me how you felt about him, right?  You weren't going to stick with being polite?”

“No, I was going to get around to it.  That's kind of why I wanted to have lunch just the two of us, so we could talk about it.”

“You were really worried, weren't you?”

Blaine shrugged.

“No useless homophobic jerk is going to change how I feel about you, okay?”  Sam lowered his voice, but kept his eyes right on Blaine's.  “You know how much you mean to me.  I may not completely understand why we work so well together, but I don't have to understand it to know it's a good thing.  No one's going to tell me otherwise.”  He held up his hand, and Blaine complied, high fiving him back.  “Blam!”

“Thanks, Sam.  I guess I'm just on edge, thinking about the surgery.”  He groaned.  “And my parents are coming Thursday afternoon.  We have to clean the apartment…”

“Oh, I meant to tell you.  Your mom called me this morning.”

“She called you?”

“Yup.  She said she called you a few times but you haven't called back.”

“That's possible.”  Blaine was suddenly fascinated by his cane, apparently trying to get it to hang off the side of the table.  “What did you tell her?”

“What, you think I'm going to tell her you're too busy having sexy times with Kurt to return her call?”

“That is not why I haven't called her,” Blaine said, frowning.

“Hey, dude, I know.”  Sam popped the last bit of his burrito into his mouth and licked a drip of sour cream off a finger.  “We actually had a nice talk.”

“You did?”  Blaine looked surprised.

“Yeah.  I mean, she was talking about getting here on Thursday, and I mentioned that Rachel would still be here, so the apartment would be pretty crowded.”  Sam glanced at Blaine out of the corner of his eye, seeing his mouth drop open.  “And you know what she said?”

Blaine shook his head.

“She asked if it she and your dad should stay in a hotel.”

“She always says that, but they never do,” Blaine said, grimacing.

“They are this time.”

“What?”

“When your mom asked if they should stay in a hotel, I said yes.”  Sam tried not to smirk, but he was pretty proud of himself.  Blaine could never manage to pull this one off, and he knew how he was dreading having his parents fuss over him.

“Are you kidding me?”  Blaine's face was almost comical.  “Wait, Rachel's going home tomorrow.”

“No, she's not.  She'll be here through Sunday, or maybe Monday.”

“The exact same time my parents will be here?”

“Hmm, funny, right?  That's why they can't stay at our place.  Just too crowded.”  Sam grinned.

Blaine launched himself at Sam, pulling him into a tight hug and nearly knocking his soda over.  “Thank you, Sam.  You really are amazing.” 

Sam hugged him back, squeezing until Blaine yelped.  “It's okay, man, I know you want it to be different this time.  And it's going to be.”  Blaine had told Sam how worried he was about the surgery, and how afraid he was of feeling like he did two years ago.  Sam totally understood – anything that reminded him of before was to be avoided.  Sam had tried to reassure him, talking about about how it would be different this time – a new hospital in a new city, a much shorter, simpler operation, a supposedly quick recovery time.  Blaine had flat out told Sam that thinking about having his parents hover over him, worried and concerned, just aggravated his anxiety, and reminded him of last time.  So Sam though he'd do what he could to help out with that particular problem.  Blaine's mom had walked right into his trap.

Blaine sat back down and looked appraisingly at Sam.  “You know what this means, Sam.”

“What?”

“You're going to be stuck dragging my sorry ass around again.”

“I think I figured that out.  I don't mind helping you, you know that.  As long as you promise not to go all super-sad on me, okay?”

Blaine nodded, lips tight.  “I really don't want that to happen again.”

“I know.”  Sam put a hand on Blaine's shoulder.  “You're going to be okay.  Plus, you won't have anywhere to hide out this time.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, as soon as you come home – Saturday or Sunday, probably, right? – you'll have to deal with me, and Rachel, and Kurt.  No room for super-sadness.”

“Clearly if you had shown up in Lima sooner, I would have been in better shape.”

“Don't joke around, dude, I'm good at this.”  Sam smiled. 

“Good at what?”

“The care and keeping of Blaine.  I know all of his secrets, and exactly how to make him laugh.”  Sam moved his hand to Blaine's waist, and wiggled his fingers.

“Do not tickle me now, Sam Evans,” Blaine said, already failing at keeping a straight face.  He giggled as Sam poked him.  “Honestly, I just ate a burrito as big as my head, it's not a good idea.”

“All right.”  Sam relented.  “One more thing,” Sam said, grabbing Blaine's cane and twirling it between his hands like he was trying to start a fire, as he thought about how to say this.  “I really do think you're going to be fine.  You're in a totally different place now than two years ago.  No recent fatalities, no brand new life changing injuries.”  Blaine smiled sadly at him.  “But listen,” Sam poked him in the chest with the handle of his cane, “if you do get sad again, that's okay too.  I'll still be here.  We'll get through it.  No matter what.”

Blaine gave Sam his most earnest look, the one that generally just melted Sam's insides, Blaine's eyes all wide and sincere, but he didn't say anything.  After a minute Sam started to squirm.  “What?  Did I get salsa on my face or something?”

Blaine smiled, tilting his head at Sam, and reached out to straighten the collar of his plaid shirt, a favorite habit of his when he was feeling affectionate.  “Nope.  No salsa.”

“Then what?”

“You'll laugh.”

“Probably, but tell me anyway.”

“I just really wanted to kiss you.”  Blaine grinned.  “What the hell.”  He leaned over, took Sam's face in his hands, and gave him a big smacking kiss on the cheek.  When he bounced back into his seat he was blushing furiously, and smiling even harder. 

Sam laughed, glad that he could lighten Blaine's heart the way Blaine always did for him.  He held up his hand again, and Blaine met it with his own.  “Blam!”