CHAPTER THREE

November: Barcelona

"Have you called him yet?"

Kurt heaved a heavy sigh. It had been exactly two weeks and four days since he had last seen Blaine and he had given him his cellphone number written on a napkin in green ink, and Kurt had lost his mind.

"No, Rachel, I haven't."

"And why, may I ask, have you not called him like I told you to?" Rachel demanded on the other end of the line.

"Because it's....it's...Rachel, it's complicated. You wouldn't understand." Kurt paced the length of his bedroom with the phone held close to his ear, his free hand fidgeting nervously with the hem of his shirt. He didn't even know why he'd called Rachel in the first place.

Oh yeah, I know why. I called her because I thought I'd get a relatively sane conversation that for once might just not involve her ridiculously extravagant wedding plans, and that's coming from me.

"What is there to understand? You like him, he's obviously into you, just call him, Kurt. If you don't, I will steal his cell phone number and I will call him myself on your behalf."

"He's a flight attendant, Rachel. A flight attendant I only see once a month."

"A flight attendant you like. And don't lie to me Kurt, I know you do."

Kurt sighed again. Sometimes, he feared Rachel knew him just a little too well. Sitting on the end of his bed, he crossed and then uncrossed his legs, debating what to say next. He could practically hear Rachel breathing on the other end of the line.

"Are you still there?" Rachel asked.

"Yes."

"Are you in your room?" Why is she asking me that? Kurt wondered irritably.

"Yes....."

"Do you work for Vogue?"

"Rachel, do you have amnesia? You know I work for Vogue." This is very confusing. And weird. Even for Rachel.. Kurt fidgeted with a loose thread on the duvet as he spoke, trying to keep all thoughts of Blaine from his mind.

"Just answer the question, Kurt!" she barked, sounding less like his old high school friend and more like a German drill sergeant.

"Yes, I do."

"Are you going to call him?"

"Yes - I mean no - dammit Rachel!" Kurt huffed, cursing himself for his slip of the tongue - that Rachel had tricked him into, nonetheless. "Look, I have some stuff to do for work, I need to take a look at some samples for next week's coverage on how to wear paisley of all fabrics so I really need to get going..."

"Kurt, listen to me. What's the worst that can happen? Look at Jesse and I. If I hadn't called him two years ago asking to meet up the next time he was in New York, we would never have found each other again and I definitely wouldn't be as happy as I am now. Do you see?"

"Not really."

"Kurt, you're being deliberately difficult." she accused.

"No, I'm not. I'm being realistic." he retorted.

"He gave you his cellphone number, he wants you to call him. At the very least you'll hurt his feelings if you don't. He obviously likes you. And you, you like him too, I have said this many times and it just gets truer every time I say it."

He hated it when Rachel was so obviously right. Because she was. He liked Blaine, really liked him, and longed to see him again. Yes, Kurt Hummel longed for someone, quite possibly for the first time in his life. Finn didn't count.

Why else would he have been fighting so hard to be chosen to take a group of new interns to Barcelona for two weeks for an orientation into European fashion from one of the world's richest cultural cities? He would be lying if he hadn't partly tried for the position because it meant seeing Blaine on his outbound and inbound flights. At least, he hoped he would.

"Are you still there?" Rachel demanded again.

"Yes." He was getting rather bored of this conversation and he searched his frazzled mind frantically for a plausible distraction, or at the very least a good enough excuse to get Rachel out of his hair. He found none.

"Call him."

And then she hung up. She fucking hung up on him. Damn you, Rachel Berry and your deviousness.

He huffed out a large breath and watched as a loose strand of hair blew up into the air in front of his face. Kicking off his socks unceremoniously and for once not really caring where in the room they landed, he flopped down onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. As if the paintwork has any answers, he scoffed to himself. Nothing has any answers in my life any more.

Well, that was a bit philosophical.

On the one hand, he really did want to call Blaine. To hear his low, warm voice and imagine what his facial expressions were as he spoke. He wanted to talk to him and learn more about him, what he liked to eat for breakfast, what brand of shoes he wore, what his apartment was like.

Oh God, I want to see the inside of his apartment. I'm a stalker.

Drumming his fingertips on his chest, he turned over the many consequences of calling Blaine in his mind. Calling him would mean admitting that there was an attraction, which would mean admitting that Kurt was smitten, which would then mean admitting he was interested in Blaine.

And whilst he would admit to an almighty schoolgirl crush, he would not admit that he was full-on interested in him, as in someone with whom he would like to go on a date, just yet.

But maybe Rachel was right. What was the worst that could happen? It would only take a few minutes of his time to call. Wasn't it worth it just to see what might be "out there", as his father would usually say to him? You need to see what's "out there", Kurt. You're too....sheltered. You live in New York, why can't you live a little?

He wasn't even sure what "out there" was, but it was worth a try. Wasn't it?

Acting quickly before he could change his mind, he sprang up off the bed, not really caring that the bedspread was now rumpled and uneven, and grabbed the napkin from his nightstand. (And no, he hadn't kept it there for stalker-type reasons.....he simply hadn't had anywhere else to put it). Without hesitating, he picked his cellphone up from where he'd left it on the carpet earlier - he would have used the landline telephone but he much preferred his cellphone - squinted at the handwriting on the napkin and dialled Blaine's number before he could catch a breath.

It rang. Once, twice, three times, four times. Kurt swore that his heart would jump out of his chest, it was beating so hard. Five, six, seven, eight.....

Oh my God, what if he doesn't pick up and it goes to his voicemail? What do I do?I've never prepared for this!

Nine, ten, eleven.....

And then the voicemail clicked on and Kurt could have sank into the ground there and then because they didn't teach you how to do stuff like this in high school - or college, for that matter.

Hey, it's Blaine here, I obviously can't get to my cell right now so leave a message and I'll call you back later!

Just hearing his voice on the cheerful voicemail message made Kurt freeze with nerves and at the same time, crowds of butterflies seemed to fill every organ in his body, and his veins seemed to hum with excitement and anticipation.

Kurt then realised that he should probably leave a message for Blaine - but what should he say? He floundered for a moment, racking his brain for something calm, cool, but interesting and made it sound like he was interested in seeing Blaine again. Which he was.

Oh boy, he was.

"Hi! It's Kurt here, you must be out or something or you don't have your cellphone on you, so I'm just leaving a message.....I'm sorry, I don't really know what to say. I'm not accustomed to leaving messages on the phones of strangers. Not that we're really strangers, I suppose." A nervous laugh. Oh God.

"So.....I just wanted to call and say hi and um, you can call me back.....if I'm at work you can leave a message on my cellphone, my number is-" Why is this so hard?

There was a lot of shuffling and crackling on the other end of the line and then a voice echoed loud and clear in Kurt's ear.

"Hello? Are you still there? Kurt? Sorry, I was out, I just got in and I heard your message, my cell does this weird thing like a normal telephone where it speaks the message out loud so I heard it just as I came through the door, I hope I'm not too late to answer....."

Blaine had picked up his cellphone and was babbling on the other end of the line. Kurt thought it was quite endearing, but now he was more nervous than ever.

"No, you're not too late. I'm here." Kurt said, trying to remember how to breathe normally without drawing in too much air through his nose and sounding like a rampaging bull.

"Oh. That's-that's great! Hi!" A pause. "I was hoping you would call....is that weird?"

"No, not at all. I'd hoped I'd be brave enough to call you, and I was. Sorry, I'm nervous. I can't believe I'm admitting that. I work for Vogue, I'm head of my department, and I'm nervous. Please don't judge me!"

"Why would I judge you?" The sincerity in his voice stopped Kurt in his tracks for a moment.

"Because I'm a nervous wreck?" Kurt offered.

"No, you're not. You just think you are." Blaine insisted. "You sound perfectly fine to me."

This was news to Kurt. "I do?"

"Yes, you do. You know, I think you need to stop worrying so much about things." Blaine said this matter-of-factly, as if he knew exactly what he was talking about.

"You do, do you?" asked Kurt, teasing.

"Yes. You remind me of my friend Wes. We were at school together and he was always really....tense, never broke a rule, always sticking to instructions. It's not surprising he graduated from Harvard Law and became a district attorney - one of the best. Do you see my point?" he explained in his usual light and friendly tone, but Kurt got the feeling that he was saying more than he was letting on, in a more serious way than he intended.

"I should be more adventurous?" Kurt suggested. That's what he was saying, wasn't it? Mind you, he was a flight attendant. He flew from country to country all day every day and probably saw places and people that Kurt had only dreamed of seeing.

"Yes, you should. You work in fashion, that's got to need some level of imagination and creativity, right? Something I'm sure you have plenty of. You just need to use that in your personal life, too."

"What are you, Dr. Phil?" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and he inwardly cursed himself for being careless. Why is it I always lose control of my power of speech when I'm talking to Blaine?

"Nope. Just Blaine. Although I do have a music theory and performance degree from Julliard."

Julliard? He went to Julliard?

"You went to Julliard?" Kurt asked, slightly confused. He crossed over to the large window on the other side of the bedroom and watched the people pass by on the side walk beneath his apartment, wondering if Blaine had been one of them and he just hadn't realised it.

"Yes, I went to Julliard!" Blaine laughed. "Why are you so surprised?"

"I don't know. I just never pictured you as a music guy, I guess."

"You're thinking about how I could have ended up as a flight attendant, aren't you?"

"Dammit, you caught me!" Kurt said, faking defeat."I hope you don't think that's rude."

"I don't think it's rude. I get asked that a lot. Mostly by my own family, but still." Was Kurt imagining the bitterness he heard in Blaine's voice? "They don't think it's suitable for me to be a flight attendant. Or at least, my father doesn't. Mom doesn't mind as much and I don't think my brother cares at all."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Kurt said, with meaning. "My dad was the Congressman of Ohio for a few years but now he just does his regular job as a mechanic, he owns the same tyre shop he's had since before I was born. I was never really rich growing up but I didn't mind, he's always been supportive of me. My stepbrother's a drumming teacher in California, he has been since he pulled out of the US army a few years ago."

"Your family sounds a lot more exciting than mine."

"Trust me, they're not. But I love them." This, Kurt said with genuine feeling.

As much as Finn drove him up the wall and his father was constantly finding ways to deceive his health regimen (implemented by Kurt himself with all the authority of a Middle Eastern dictator) with his stepmother chiding him for disobeying the doctor's orders, he wouldn't trade them for anything. It saddened him somewhat to hear that Blaine's family life wasn't so harmonious. He remembered that his parents were divorced; he had told him that the time they'd had coffee together in the airport in Milan.

There was a not entirely uncomfortable silence between them for a few moments. Kurt watched as a few droplets of rain began to sneak down the window and he let out a tiny sigh. Rain in New York. Then again, it was October.

"What are you thinking about?" Blaine's voice brought him out of his contemplative reverie with a start.

"How do you know I'm thinking about anything?" Kurt challenged, an edge of playfulness to his voice.

"I can tell. I have a sixth sense."

Kurt gave a loud, fake gasp. "You see dead people?"

"You've seen The Sixth Sense?" Blaine retorted.

"Fair enough, you win." Kurt sighed.

"I didn't know we were playing a game."

It was so easy to talk to Blaine. He felt like a long-lost friend with whom he'd reconnected, someone he'd known for a long time. He knew that that was impossible; he'd never met him before now. But that's what it felt like. It was a lot less frustrating than talking to Rachel and much less mind-numbing than making conversation with Finn, and definitely more fun than awkward office parties and social functions which Kurt was forced to attend out of status within the company.

He vividly recalled his first office function, in which he had been so nervous, he drank most of the open bar within the first two hours and had to be carried to his car by one of the interns. He visibly shuddered with the memory.

Miraculously, he managed to keep his job.

"I'm sorry to cut this short, but my food is ready and I'm starving, so I hope you don't mind that I'm going to go now." Blaine said, sounding so apologetic that Kurt almost laughed.

"Really, Blaine? You're ditching me for food?" he joked, crossing the room again and fussing with the pillows on his bed, even though he didn't really need to.

"Hey, I've had a hard day! You can't hold it against me for that."

"I'm sure I can find a way."

"Okay, I really have to go. But...can I call you another time? I mean, if you want me to. I'd really like to call you."

"Then you can. I'll be waiting for your call, because I'd really like you to call me, too. And if I call you, make sure you're at home next time or at least have your cell with you so I don't have to struggle with the alien territory of voicemail messages." Kurt said.

"I'll make sure of it, just for you. So that you don't have to struggle with the alien territory of voicemail messages."Blaine replied.

"Bye, then."

"Bye."

"I'm glad I called you." Kurt said.

"And I'm glad you called." was the reply. Kurt allowed himself a smile, even though he knew that Blaine couldn't see it.

Kurt pressed the "End Call" button, feeling somewhat saddened at the loss of Blaine's voice. He only hoped that he was scheduled to travel abroad sometime soon in the hope that he might see him again and talk in person.

Kurt's hopes came true in just a few days.

His assistant, a blonde girl called Victoria of whom he was rather fond, informed him that arrangements had been made for him to fly to Barcelona the following week to view a new collection being launched by an up-and-coming Catalan designer from the city.

Kurt couldn't have been happier. Although, he refrained from squealing out loud in front of Victoria when she passed on the message; because even though he was quite obviously very smitten with Blaine, he didn't want to embarrass himself.

He did, however, allow himself a little dance in his seat once Victoria had left.

A very mature, adult dance.

But honestly, Kurt was looking forward to this trip immensely, not just because of the strong prospect of seeing Blaine. Barcelona was one of the cities on his "Must Visit" list - a list he had been compiling since high school - and hadn't yet found the opportunity to go. The timing could not have been more perfect.

He would be there for a week, as per usual, as the exhibition of the collection would begin on a Tuesday and run for five days before the closing function at the end of the week. That, he wasn't looking forward to so much.

But I get to go to one of my favourite places and I might see Blaine again, he reasoned. So it doesn't matter so much that I have to stick it out at some fashion industry function. I'll just make sure to stay away from the wine this time.

The following week could not have arrived fast enough. After checking, double-checking and triple-checking the travel arrangements and all relevant documentation (he was nothing if not thorough) he was ready to depart from New York JFK to Barcelona Aiport (BCN). He prayed that everything would go to plan and that he wouldn't be stranded in a foreign airport again.

He arrived at JFK on time and immediately checked in his luggage. He had been given a pass that would allow him "speedy check in and boarding" which meant that he wouldn't have to wait in ridiculously long queues and he would have priority seating. Maybe this time I'll actually get something in first class. I've always wanted to know what travelling in first class was like.

Of course, because of the fast check-in he hadn't anticipated the fact that he would be waiting longer in the boarding lounge. Dammit. What am I supposed to do for three hours? He wished he'd thought to pack a book or something in his hand luggage to keep him occupied.

On the plus side, he did get a seat in first class. And he got to gloat to Rachel about it via text message, something he hadn't been able to do in a long time. Which was obviously a very important bonus.

Tapping his foot exasperatedly, he settled for his usual habit of watching the people in the airport go about their business. A fat woman with a tartan handbag was wrestling a toddler into a blue jacket he clearly did not want to wear. A young couple were checking their travellers checks and passports close by. The boarding staff were busy preparing the gate for the passengers, striding up and down in their neatly pressed uniforms.

They certainly didn't remind him of a certain someone who wore a similar uniform (and looked better in it, too). Absolutely not.

Okay, maybe they do a little, he admitted to himself. But I can't think about Blaine now. I'll get distracted. Though distracted from what, I don't know.

Sighing, he crossed and uncrossed his legs and shifted in his seat. Waiting was right up there with polyester blend, flannel and most Republican politicians on his list of things he disliked strongly (he refused to use the word "hate" regardless of context, although that's what he felt towards them - hate) and the longer he had to wait, the more he disliked it.

He flicked through his travel documentation. He gulped down half a bottle of water and ate a cereal bar. He watched with barely concealed amusement as a red-faced woman tried to deal with her runaway children who were hiding behind the row of seats in front of him.

Kurt wondered randomly if he would ever have any children of his own, and if he did, what they would look like and what kind of children they would be. It was a thought which both excited and depressed him because he knew that unlike most of his straight friends, even the slightest possibility of becoming a parent was difficult. It was something he often thought about in wistful moments.

He must have been contemplating this for longer than he thought because all of a sudden there was an announcement on the PA system.

"Ladies and gentlemen, flight 306A to Barcelona will be boarding shortly. Please ensure that you have all your personal belongings with you and your passport and boarding pass ready to present to the staff at the boarding gate. Thank you."

Immediately gathering his things, he jumped up from his seat and joined the end of the boarding queue - or rather, the front, since the queue wasn't long enough for there to really be an end. He knew that with his first class seat he would get priority boarding and would be able to enter the plane before the regular passengers in economy class. Sue him if he was going to enjoy his air travel status and make the most of it.

He presented the relevant documents to the overly smiley woman at the boarding gate who checked his passport and nodded in the affirmative, letting him know silently that he was free to board. From his travel experiences he realised that boarding staff never talked very much; they just checked your passport and sent you on your way. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Kurt let out a little squeal when he saw the first class suite. Was it a suite? He thought. I'm calling it a suite. For your average international airline it was lavishly decorated, with twice the amount of legroom in front of the seats and extra-large overheard compartments. The fabric covering the seats was a deep red, so very different from the ugly blue of the seats in economy class, and were wider and more spacious. I'm definitely going to like travelling in first class. I might even find a way to make it a permanent fixture.

I may have to kill a few people at work to get there, though.

He found his seat with ease and relished the comfort as he stretched out as much as he could. Being tall for a man, his long legs were usually difficult to accommodate for and this was something akin to bliss. For once his knees weren't jammed up somewhere in the region of his nostrils, for which he was extremely grateful. One of these days he was going to curse the man (or woman) who decided that airplane seats had to be as tiny as possible so that only a nine year old could fit into them comfortably.

Thank God for first class.

He also noticed that there were only two seats in each aisle on either side, making the likelihood of being squashed in by two other people much less of a possibility. Excellent.

All he wanted now was for Blaine to pass by on his way to the front cabin so that he could catch his eye and let him know he was there. Yes, Kurt Hummel was using Flirting 101 in the most basic sense so that there could be some kind of communication between them.

Yes, he felt slightly embarrassed about it. But he decided he didn't really care if it brought him into contact with Blaine. He only hoped it would work.

A few minutes went by and the plane started to fill up with passengers. He could hear the noisy chatter coming from the open doors as the attendants directed people to their seats and helped them put their luggage in the overhead compartments. Kurt strained his ears to see if he could catch a sound of Blaine's melodic voice, but could hear nothing. He tried not to let his disappointment show on his face as he politely greeted the person sliding into the seat next to him.

And then did a double take and almost screamed.

It was Blaine.

"Are you following me?" was all he could manage to say around the shock that dried out his throat and brought a very (un)attractive red hue to his face. He could feel the warmth of his body pressed against side and oh God, our feet are almost touching. I am almost touching the feet of a very good looking man who I happen to like very, very much.

Blaine's face fell and Kurt immediately felt guilty for sounding so accusatory.

"Is it too much? I thought I would surprise you. I saw you sitting here and there was an empty seat, so I thought it would be okay to join you. I can find somewhere else to sit if you want."

"No, no, that's okay! Don't leave. I was just surprised, that's all. I was expecting you to be in your uniform giving orders."

"If I'd have known you'd be on this flight I would have told you, I promise. I wasn't trying to sneak up on you." Blaine insisted, and Kurt felt even more guilty.

"I know you weren't. It's actually a really nice surprise." Kurt replied with a smile. He looked down. "Nice shoes."

"Now you're just being sarcastic. A self-respecting fashion expert like yourself wouldn't like these shoes." He wiggled his foot for emphasis and Kurt couldn't help but snort at the fact that his pants stopped a few inches above his ankles, as if they were too short.

"They suit you." Kurt said.

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not!"

Blaine raised one of his thick eyebrows in Kurt's direction.

"Fine. I was lying." Kurt admitted. "They're hideous. Why do you wear them?"

"I like them."

"Really?" Kurt asked sceptically.

"Yes, really!" Blaine exclaimed. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes." Kurt deadpanned.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we will shortly be departing for Barcelona. Please ensure that your seatbelts are securely fastened and all times and that you remain in your seat during take off until the plane has made the full climb of 37,000ft. We wish you a comfortable and enjoyable flight."

"Senyores i senyors, de poc sortirem per Barcelona. Assegureu-vos que els seus cinturons de seguretat estiguin ben fixades i tots els temps i que romangui en el seu seient durant l'enlairament fins que l'avió ha fet de la pujada total de 37.000 peus Li desitgem un vol agradable i confortable."

"Damas y caballeros, de poco vamos a salir para Barcelona. Por favor, asegúrese de que sus cinturones de seguridad estén bien fijadas y todos los tiempos y que permanezca en su asiento durante el despegue hasta que el avión ha hecho de la subida total de 37.000 pies Le deseamos un vuelo agradable y confortable. "

"You know, this is the first time in a long time I've been on a plane as a passenger and not as a flight attendant." Blaine said.

"How come?"

"I never had the time, or the money. The last time I was a passenger I was flying to New York to get a fresh start at Julliard. I haven't been on a plane as a passenger since." he explained. Was that sadness Kurt detected, or was he hearing things?

The body of the plane began to rumble as the pilot prepared for take off. This part of the flight always felt strange to Kurt, as if he were lying on a vibrating mattress or in the body of a huge, snoring beast.

"So how come you're travelling to Barcelona now?" Kurt asked. "Holiday? I would think that you see plenty of amazing places as a flight attendant."

"I don't usually get to stop and look around. That time we were in Milan, I got lucky because the flight I was due to travel back on got delayed, remember? It's not often I get time to see the sights, I'm usually back on the next plane home." Blaine shrugged. "But I like attending on flights. You meet lots of pretty great people." He smiled at Kurt.

"I'm sure you do." Kurt replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. But it was increasingly difficult as Blaine looked at him with bright eyes and warm smile which made Kurt feel all.....tingly. He, a grown man, was feeling all tingly whilst talking to another grown man. "You still haven't told me why you're going to Barcelona."

"I needed a break. My apartment in Queens was getting a little too comfortable and I wanted a change of scenery." Blaine replied.

"How long are you staying for?" I hope I can see you.

"Just until Friday, not long. It's only a short break. It's all I can afford at the moment." Kurt should have felt uncomfortable with someone who was practically almost very nearly a stranger sharing personal information with him, but because it was Blaine, he didn't really mind. He felt trusted.

He liked it.

"I'm sorry." Kurt said.

"Don't apologise. I don't really mind not having a lot of money. It makes a change from when I was growing up."

"Wait, you don't like being rich? Isn't that kind of....backward?" Kurt's brows furrowed in confusion. Why would someone prefer to have less money? Growing up in a working class family, Kurt knew the hardships of low income and was extremely grateful that his job and status allowed him a more than comfortable standard of living.

"I didn't want to be the same kind of person as my father. I like living simple."

"But you're a flight attendant." Kurt pointed out.

"A lot of what I earn goes to pay for my mom's healthcare bills. She's not been too well for a while now."

"What about your brother? Didn't you say he was an actor?" I'm prying, I should stop.

"He doesn't really care." Blaine suddenly straightened up in his seat and rubbed a hand across his face. "Sorry, I didn't mean to go on and on about my problems. You probably think I'm crazy."

"It's not crazy." Kurt said softly. "My dad's been sick too, when I was in high school. He had a pretty bad heart attack."

"Was he okay?"

"Yeah, he was fine after a while. But it scared me, and I devoted most of my junior year to caring for him after that. He told me not too, but I just knew that I had to, for his sake." Kurt explained.

"I know how that feels."

They sat in silence after that. They were in the air now, travelling at hundreds of miles an hour and heading towards Europe. People came and went by them, but neither man took any notice of who or what was surrounding them. Kurt and Blaine both were lost in their own little worlds, as if in a bubble where only the two of them existed.

Kurt had felt this sensation before. Like they were the only two people that mattered. He knew it was silly to feel like that because they'd only just met three months ago and hardly ever saw each other, but ever since he'd called Blaine and left that embarrassingly nervous message on his cellphone, and he'd picked up on the other end, but he couldn't help what he felt. I really like him, Kurt thought. A lot. Possibly even more than I used to like Finn, and that is saying something.

Three months was ample time to develop a crush on somebody, to realise you liked them. Wasn't it?

They were forced to part ways at the airport as Blaine was headed to the south of the city, whilst Kurt would be in the very centre, at the heart of the Catalan capital. Barcelona was huge; the chances of them crossing paths were limited.

After the initial quiet that had followed their conversation, they picked up where they had left off, swapping details about their lives and silly anecdotes that nobody really cared about, but they still wanted to share anyway. Kurt told Blaine all about Rachel and her upcoming nuptials to Kurt's Least Favourite Person on Earth and Blaine in turn told him about the female barista at the coffee shop he frequented in Queens who insisted on pursuing him even though he'd made it very, very clear that he was gay.

So when they parted ways at the Arrivals hall, where Kurt's taxi was waiting for him to take him into the city, it was very reluctantly that Kurt said goodbye.

"Maybe I'll see you on your flight back." Blaine said. "If I don't.....I'm sure I'll see you the next time you fly somewhere."

"I hope you will. I mean, I'd like it if I did see you....." Dammit Kurt, you really have to get a grip on your tongue.

Blaine smiled. That stupid smile, Kurt thought, will be the death of me.

"I'd like that too."