First day of college. Kurt checked himself a final time in his full-length mirror, smoothing down his meticulously tailored outfit.  He'd worked on it for days.  It was a difficult balancing act, minimizing his belly while still expressing a modicum of style and fashion.  Thankfully, it was an unseasonably cool September, and he could get away with a long cardigan and elaborately arranged silk scarf patterned with yellow canaries, a treasured gift from Blaine and a reminder of his Warbler days, that was intended to draw the eye … up.   So most of his baby-paunch was camouflaged.  It wasn't that he was ashamed of his baby, but … he'd spent all his life feeling like a freak at public school, and he had no intention of letting on, the very first day, that he was a candidate for Ripley's Believe It or Not, and screwing up his big chance of fitting in at school.  You never know.  This is a new beginning, a fresh start.  Maybe I'll be one of the cool kids, finally.  Anything's possible!

He picked up his wedding ring from the table beside his bed, but frowned when it jammed on a knuckle.  Damn it.  His fingers were so swollen.  The platinum band glittered in the morning light, reminding him of the twinkling in Blaine's eyes, the brightness of his smile.  He missed Blaine so much.  He slipped the wedding ring onto a leather cord to hang around his neck, and passed it under his shirt where he could feel it lying cool against his skin.  It was his way of taking Blaine along with him.

He rechecked his school bag, already packed with his books for the day and his breakfast and snack, and plenty of fluids  He'd promised Blaine to stay hydrated.  He planned to meet Rachel to buy lunch at NYADA between classes, but a wave of panic rose up at the thought of entering a school cafeteria again, and a strange one at that.  He took a deep breath.  Things'll be different here.  This is college.  Performing arts college.  Nobody will pick on you, Kurt!   Lots of people will want to sit with you.  Nobody will slushy you or knock your tray out of your hands, don't be ridiculous. And you have Rachel.  He shut his eyes, breathing out slowly, and looked up when he heard a sharp rap on the other side of the dormitory suite's door.  

That would be Rachel.  He was so thankful and happy she and Finn had gotten into married housing along with him, and that he and Rachel had similar schedules.  They would walk to the first class together, and it wouldn't be scary.  It wouldn't.  He opened the door and she burst in, taking up the entire small suite with her outsized, overbearing, star personality, and grabbing his arm excitedly.  “C'mon Kurt!  Time to take Manhattan!”

“Okay, okay.  Just … one thing,” Kurt said, laughing.  He took out his phone and sent a text to his Blaine.  

1st day of school jitters

miss u so much

love you

wish me luck :)

He knew Blaine would be up already for morning meds and vital sign checks, and he only had to wait a second before he saw that Blaine was typing a return message.  Rachel impatiently dragged him toward the door, but he put a hand up at the door jamb and waited for it.  

love u more

break a leg

you'll be great honey ttyl

:)

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Blaine gazed woefully at his phone, wishing so hard that he could give Kurt a kiss and send him off to college with in-person good wishes.  The nurse coughed politely beside his hospital bed, and he looked up.  “Hi, Joan,” he said, forcing a smile to his face, and automatically offering his arm for the morning blood draw.  

“Hi sweetie,” Joan chirped.  “How's my favorite patient today?  Anything new?”  She tapped his arm, looking for a vein, and Blaine shrugged.

“Not really, I guess.  My husband starts college today.  And I'm almost ready to take my GED, so.”  He winced as she jabbed at his arm, and the vein collapsed.

“Sorry, hon.”  Joan rounded the bed and started tapping on the other arm.  “You're a regular pincushion these days, it's getting harder to find a good vein.”  

“I don't even see why they need so much blood all the time,” Blaine complained, then bit his lip.  “I'm sorry.  I know you're just doing your job.”

“It can't be easy lying in here day in and day out, getting poked and prodded all day” Joan ventured.  “Especially when Kurt is starting an exciting new school.'

“Kurt deserves it,” Blaine said stiffly.  He felt the pinch of the needle and looked down, watching the blood flow quickly into the vial.  “I just wish I had more to do.”

“Well, I have some good news for you, then.  Apparently, your psychologist suggested to Dr. Ryan that you need a little change of scenery, and something's been arranged if you're interested.”

Blaine swiveled his head toward her, interest piqued.  “But I can't leave the hospital, can I?”

She sealed off the vial.  “You wouldn't have to.  The social worker will be in later this morning to tell you all about it, but I think you'll be excited, and maybe you can fill in those empty spaces,” she said, inclining her head toward the white board beside Blaine's bed, where he'd sadly wiped out “Kurt time” anywhere it appeared during NYADA class time, leaving several large blanks.   She pocketed the blood sample and winked as she left the room, and Blaine excitedly picked up his study guides, determined to get his work done in time so he wouldn't miss whatever this new plan might be for him.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Their first class was Song Interpretation, and Kurt sat terrorized as a young, British teaching assistant emptied a box of sheet music on his desk, and selected songs at random from the pile for each student to perform.   Adam Crawford explained that they should review their assigned song before the professor came in to see their renditions.

Rachel got her selection first, and squealed loudly in delight, clapping her hands.  Oblivious to the annoyed looks of her classmates, she held up the sheet music to show Kurt.  He smiled thinly at the title.  Don't Rain on My Parade.  Well, that guaranteed Rachel an A, and he would be relegated to sidekick to the star status again.  Why did I think it was a good idea to come to the same college as Rachel, again?

Adam came to stand in front of Kurt's chair next.  “And you are …?”

“Kurt Hummel,” he whispered hoarsely.  

“Tenor, I assume?”

“He's a countertenor,” Rachel burst in proudly.   “A high countertenor.”  

Adam raised his eyebrows, seemingly impressed, and flipped through the sheets of music in his pile, looking for something.  

Kurt felt mildly uncomfortable.  Adam hadn't asked anyone else what their singing voice was.  Everyone else had just gotten a random selection so far, so why was Adam singling him out, and looking at the titles for his piece?  

Finally, Adam handed him a piece, giving him a knowing, kind smile. Kurt couldn't get rid of a lump that had formed in his throat, and only grimaced back.  Defying Gravity, he saw, relieved.   You know this one.  This is your song.  You can do a good job with this one. He reviewed the music, mentally running through gestures and inflections he might use for the performance, before the professor breezed in halfway through the class time.  Professor Karl was an ex-Broadway star, and a grumpy one, dropping into a chair with a thud and putting his feet up on the desk.  

After a long drink from a travel mug, Professor picked up the class list.  “Okay.  Let's hear from … Brody Weston,” he snapped.  

Adam held out his hand for Brody's sheet music, placing it on the piano's music rack as he sat on the bench.  “When you're ready, Brody.”

When Brody started his number, Kurt thought Brody had a nice voice.  And he was smokingly hot, like a lot of people at NYADA seemed to be.  But as the performance continued, Brody did more flexing than emoting, and Professor Karl gave him a withering glance at the end.

“Thank you, Mr. Weston.  I see you made it just in the nick of time to this class.”  He pointed to the blackboard.  “Mr. Weston, what did Mr. Crawford write there?”

Brody peered at the board.  “Song Interpretation?”

“Correct.  I commend you for electing this class as a junior.  At least you realized you needed work on understanding and conveying characterization through song lyrics, and sought help.  And, your grade is  based in part on improvement over the semester, so … you have plenty of room for that, clearly.  Sit down, please.”

Five more students were called on, and Professor Karl eviscerated them as well.  

“Well, that was painful,” Professor Karl grumbled, before looking at his class list.  “Fortunately we only have time left for one more today.  Let's see …”

Rachel shot her arm into the air. “Professor!  I'm Rachel Berry, and I'd be willing to volunteer!”

“This isn't the Hunger Games, Ms. Berry, although there are several resemblances, volunteering is not an option in this class.  You will wait to be called on.”

The class snickered, but Rachel just tossed her hair with an airy shrug, while Kurt died of second-hand embarrassment.  “Sorry, Kurt, I tried to jump on that grenade for you,” she whispered out of the side of her mouth.  “I know you can't sing all of Defying Gravity.”

Kurt gave her a foul look, and was about to whisper something back, when Professor Karl suddenly was standing in front of their chairs.  

“Am I interrupting something?” he said evenly, glaring between Rachel and Kurt in turn.  They both vigorously shook their heads no, and Professor Karl looked down at Kurt, shrinking in the chair.  “Your name?”

“Kurt Hummel,” he said feebly.  

“You're up, Kurt Hummel.”

Kurt stood, careful not to trigger the head rush that sometimes happened when he got up too suddenly, and took several deep breaths on the way over to hand Adam back the sheet music.  He turned and faced the class, and noticed that many of them were eying him with open disdain, some running their gaze down to his midsection pointedly.  He threw his head back defiantly.  

So it's like that.  Fine.  Use it for the song … ‘you won't bring me down'.  Not any of you.

He tore through the song, meeting their stares with his own icy disdain.  He played it up big, striding around the classroom, jabbing his finger toward the more smug looking ones in perfect Cooper Anderson-esque style, and - most importantly -  hitting every note.  He looked directly into Rachel's eyes on the high F, enjoying the sight of her jaw dropping, and then stood panting heavily while Adam and half the class burst into wild cheers.  Kurt smiled at Rachel, who was cheering the loudest for him, and then looked anxiously at Professor Karl.  

A smile played around the corner of his mouth.  “Nicely done, Mr. Hummel.  Class dismissed.”

Kurt hurried to collect his bag, and Rachel squeezed his arm in congratulations.  He distinctly heard a snide, “He has to defy gravity every time he gets out of a chair” and a return “They grow them big out there in the heartland, I guess,” pass between two slim, lithe-looking young men who walked by arm-in-arm.   He put a hand over his belly defensively, and felt a little crushed even after his triumph.

“Ignore them, Kurt.  When people cut you down, that means they're jealous of your talent.  I know what I'm talking about,” Rachel reassured him, but he felt sad and disappointed that things had to be like that even here.  When he turned to go, he was surprised that Adam Crawford was standing nearby.  

“Really beautiful job, Kurt,” he said, in a clipped British accent.  “I wanted you to know - - Professor Karl never praises anyone.  So consider what he just said a rave review from the teacher as well.”

“Thank you, Mr. Crawford - -”

“Please.  It's Adam outside class.  I'm just another student here, after all.  Though a senior … and, well … the leader of our NYADA show choir.”  He pulled a flyer from his backpack and handed it to Kurt.  “It's loads of fun and we'd love to have you join us, Kurt.  We'll be starting our meetings a week from today.”

Adam's Apples - NYADA Show Choir - Rehearsals Thursdays at 4:00

“Oh …” Kurt said, thinking of Blaine alone in his hospital room waiting for him to visit.  He had hoped to spend some time every afternoon with Blaine, to help relieve the tedium he must be feeling.  “Well … I'm flattered, but … I have another commitment after school every day, so I don't think so.”  

“Listen, keep the flyer and think about it before you say no.  This school can be intense, Kurt, and our group is … well, it's a relief from all that.  A chance to sing for fun, be with others who support each other as a team, not cut each other down all the time.  I think you'd enjoy it.”

“I'm sure once you hear my performance next class, you'll be asking me to join too,” Rachel piped up, and Adam politely nodded and handed her a flyer, but still kept his eyes on Kurt.

“Take home the flyer and think about it, Kurt. We really need you.  And ... “ he took the flyer back with a sly grin, and scribbled something on the back.  “Here's my number if you decide you're interested.”

Kurt felt a blush forming … is this guy flirting?  He had so little experience in that department, other than Blaine's attentions, that it was a little heady.  He looked down and stammered something awkward, and then watched Adam bound away.  A handsome, older, British guy taking an interest in me?  Is this real life?  

Rachel took his arm and pulled him firmly down the hallway.  “Kurt Hummel, be careful.  Do I need to remind you that you're a married man, with two babies on the way?” she hissed.

Kurt sighed.  “No, you don't need to remind me, Rachel, I have the waistline to remind me.  And the hemorrhoids, and the heartburn.”

“So why didn't you tell Adam about Blaine, and the babies?”  Rachel's voice was rising, and Kurt stopped and faced her.

“He didn't ask me out, Rachel, he asked me to join his show choir.  And I told you before, do not talk about our babies in this school.  At all,” he whispered, looking around furtively.  “Blaine is one thing, of course I'm not hiding that I'm married, but please don't bring the other part up again while we're in public.  Someone could hear and … I just don't want that getting around, okay?”

“Sooner or later people are going to find out -- “

“When I decide the time is right,” Kurt insisted irritably.  “Can I just be a normal college kid for a few months, please?  Is that too much to ask?”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Kurt reached Blaine's room and was surprised that there was no yoga mat, no Eastern music, and no Blaine.  He felt panic rising up in him, until he saw a note lying on Blaine's bed.

I'm downstairs (4th floor) having a surprise!  Come down!  Love you! Blaine

He pocketed the note, confused, and headed toward the elevator.  As he pushed the button to go down, he wondered what this was about.  The sonogram equipment was on the same floor as the obstetric unit where Blaine was staying, and he hadn't been to the fourth floor.  He consulted the directory posted on the elevator wall.  Pediatric Orthopedics.  

The door opened and he came through, looking around curiously, and the stopped suddenly at the sound of piano notes … and the sweet, smooth voice singing along with them.   

He rounded the nurses' station following that wonderful music to its source … an activity room, where he stood at the door watching as Blaine sang to a group of enthralled youngsters, and played his own accompaniment. Blaine caught his eye and smiled lovingly at him, and he waved back, getting a little teary-eyed at the sight of Blaine performing again, with all these children.  He knew just how to entertain them, getting them to sing along and making funny faces at them, sending them into gales of giggles despite their aches and pains and broken bones.

He'll make a wonderful dad.

Kurt sat down in a comfortable chair by the door, watching and admiring, until Blaine finished his number and stood up slowly.  

“That's it for today, kids,” he said, his face looking a little tired but so happy.  The children clamored for “just one more”, but Blaine's social worker stood up from nearby.  

“Blaine is only allowed out of bed for an hour a day.  He's a patient here too, kids, and he needs his rest.”

Blaine sat down in a wheelchair brought over by a nurse, and Kurt started over towards him.

“Will you come back tomorrow, Blaine?” one moppet pleaded, leaning on Blaine's legs with her pink-casted arm and blocking the wheelchair's exit.

“I think so, if it's okay with my husband here,” Blaine said, looking up at Kurt and squeezing his hand, then frowning.  

“Of course it's okay!” Kurt said, astonished.  “You need something like this, Blaine.”

“It's just that the charge nurse on this floor said that from now on, I'll have to go from four to five, right before the kids' dinner.  That's when you usually visit.”

Kurt hesitated.  “Well … I can come see you play for part of it, then.  And, actually, there's a show choir club I got an invitation to that meets at four on Thursdays anyway … maybe if you have something to do then, I can fit it in?  Would you mind?”

Blaine looked at him quietly, with those wide, perceptive eyes, and Kurt blushed again, but there was no reason to.  It was just a club, that's all … but Adam had been the only person who had been nice to him all day.  The only friend he'd made.

“No, I don't mind,” Blaine finally said, playing with Kurt's fingers in his.  “Kurt?  Where's your wedding ring?”

He started, and then pulled the cord around his neck to show Blaine hurriedly.  “Here, see?  I can't wear it on my finger anymore, my hands are a bit swollen.  So I keep it here, next to my heart.”

Blaine smiled sadly.  “I'm glad,” he said.