From Blaine:
I made the Warblers and they gave me a solo.

From Kurt:
Congrats!

From Blaine:
I think I’m going to puke.

Kurt may not know much about the inner workings of a prep school a capella group straight out of Dead Poets Society, but he knows about appearances. He knows about making them count. And frizzy haired Blaine who abuses the wrong shade of concealer for reasons Kurt doesn’t know how to ask about? Yeah. He doesn’t seem to know much about appearances.

“I’m not letting you perform your very first Warblers solo while wearing a shade of concealer that can only be described as Snooki Polizzi’s favorite shade, Oompa Loompa,” Kurt says as he swipes the makeup sponge over Blaine’s cheek, mindful of his healing bruises. “It’s not what friends do.”

“Are we friends, Kurt?”

“I thought we were,” Kurt says carefully. “Are we?”

“Yes! Yes, of course,” Blaine gushes. “I just thought- I didn’t want to assume, um--”

And here Kurt thought he would be the insecure, babbling mess in this arrangement. Blaine is just as clueless as he is. It’s comforting, having someone to relate to in that way. He doesn’t feel like he needs to tilt his nose in the air and arm himself with dagger-like words just to survive. He can relax. He’s safe here.

He’s not sure if here is Dalton, or Blaine. That part he’s still trying to figure out.

“There,” Kurt smiles and steps back to admire his work. “Good as new.”

“Getting there,” Blaine replies.

Kurt lifts his chin. “I’d say you’re there. You look perfectly obnoxious. Go doo-wop their socks off.”

Blaine giggles. It’s a happy, unrestrained sound. One Kurt feels he’s had to work for.“Thank you,” he says, as he crosses the room to check his reflection in the mirror hanging from the door. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“Remained orange?” Kurt offers. He wants to leave it at that, stick to the playful rapport they seem to have going on, but he knows it can’t last. Especially if Blaine has an issue with - well, him. So he takes a deep breath, schools his face into something more neutral, and begins to speak. “Blaine, you know I’m... gay, right?” The words still sound foreign coming out of his mouth. Blaine is the third person he’s told, so it’s still new.

“And? What does that matter?”

Kurt wants to say it matters a lot. He will spend his life being bullied for something he has no control over. The thing that makes him him. And as far as he knows, Blaine was beat up for being a bit of a smart ass, so if people will kick the crap out of a person for that...

“Hey, hey, Kurt. I didn’t mean it like that.”

His face is pinched, and he only realises it when he begins to relax. “What did you mean?”

“It’s not a big deal, Kurt. It’s no different than having super curly hair or having blue eyes.” Blaine’s face is kind. There is no judgement there. “You’re you.”

Kurt flushes, and he doesn’t know why. It’s not like Blaine said his eyes were pretty or anything. It was an example, he doesn’t need to look too much into it.

“Whatever,” he shrugs. Kurt wants to pretend that this isn’t a big deal, like this isn’t the easiest conversation he’s ever had about his sexuality.

“Don’t whatever me,” Blaine says, giving his shoulder a playful swat. “Now c’mere and help me figure out what I’m going to do with my hair.”

Being friends with Blaine Anderson feels a lot like acceptance.

-

There are more panicked text messages, and reassurances that Blaine is going to do Michael Buble proud. They keep coming up with excuses to spend more time together. And after awhile, Kurt doesn’t feel like they need to make excuses. He finds himself making the trip out of Westerville enough times to earn an eyebrow raise or two from his Dad. (Okay, it’s probably two.)

It’s been years since Kurt has felt a month pass by so fast. He’s not entirely sure if it’s Blaine’s presence in his life. Maybe it’s his maybe-friendships in the New Directions, maybe it’s the fact that his relationship with his father has only improved since coming out.

But maybe it was that Saturday spent in an abandoned church parking lot teaching Blaine how to drive. It had ended in laughter. So much laughter. More laughter than Kurt has known in the longest time.

Whatever the reason, before he knows it, he’s back in the hotel’s conference center. This time, he’s less nervous. He can put names to faces, and he can feel the comforting press of Blaine’s thigh against his. Blaine had been the one to push their chairs together in the first place.

It’s been awhile since Kurt has felt like he isn’t contagious. It’s the little things - shoulders squeezes and pushing a chair closer - that make him feel human again. When things at McKinley get rough, he can remember that there are people out there who don’t care that he’s gay.

"Anyone have any news?" Giselle asks.

"Well, since our last meeting, I quit the football team and came out to my Dad," Kurt says, clasping his hands together. "And I'm aware that my life sounds kind of like the sub plot of a B-list teen movie."

"Do you want a cookie or something?" Jesse teases. "Not to be crude, but the theatre world isn't exactly a stranger to a little guy on guy."

They don’t care. There are a few polite claps, maybe an eye roll or two, but no one in the group seems to care. Sure, the guy who talks too much about Twilight is giving Kurt a coy little look and he doesn’t know how he feels about that look.

Still, it’s refreshing.

Blaine plucks Kurt's feather hat off his head and sits it on his own. Kurt sticks his tongue out and takes Blaine's blazer off the back of his chair and puts it on.

"You two are so obnoxious," Harmony groans.

"And you're twelve," Kurt says as he leans over to tilt the hat just so on Blaine's head.

"Thirteen," she sniffs. "And a half."

The conversation moves on, and Kurt’s coming out becomes no less relevant than Harmony’s upcoming part in her school play. He catches Blaine out of the corner of his eye, only to find that he’s already looking over at him. He’s smiling.

-

From Blaine:
Me too.

From Kurt:
Is this a backwards guessing game?

From Blaine:
No.

From Blaine:
I’m gay, Kurt.

From Blaine:
And I wish I was brave enough to say it somewhere other than a text message.

He remembers the healing, yet angry looking bruise on Blaine’s cheek. The one he refuses to explain but will confirm ‘wasn’t from dodge ball.’ The image of his new friend off in the corner, concerned about people finding him ‘weird’ is still fresh in his mind.

Paired with this new piece of information, he has concerns. Kurt worries he’s been hogging all of the acceptance and care that has come from their friendship. Maybe Blaine had needed a little acceptance too, but Kurt’s vision was too tunneled to see it.

Kurt drafts three different text messages before making the decision to pick up the phone and call. He doesn’t give Blaine a chance to speak, just -

”Why did you transfer to Dalton?”