The next month continued in the same surprisingly good manner. He was officially put on payroll as a part-time piano teacher and on the once a week rotation at the piano bar he had gotten the trial period week (a decision reached two weeks earlier than he had thought). Doug had settled in nicely and learning to run next to Blaine and not around him (although if there was a duck, all bets were off). He and Sam had hit it off and got together for lunch or drinks at least once a week outside of class. They had passed the tiptoeing around each other stage and now knew each other's drink orders, celebrity crushes, and favorite superheroes.

It had been, in short, the best month since…everything had happened. Monday had been quiet, only his session with Scott and a few hours of lessons at the music store. One of his students, Jackie, showed real promise, if only she would apply herself a little more. His runs (even the one on Tuesday before the yoga class) were a little longer each time he went out—Blaine was pushing himself, possibly a little too much. But complacency would be worse for him in the long run in comparison to too-sore muscles at yoga. Following what has quickly become his routine, Blaine put on the radio and hummed along as he rinsed the sweat from his run off, threw yoga-appropriate attire on, and made himself a light lunch. A quick trip downstairs for a last bathroom break for Doug and he was on his way.

As with the past weeks, Blaine bypassed the same bored teenager who was babysitting the desk and locked his things up in a locker before heading back to the designated room. Just like the weeks before, Sam was setting up and talking with a few people as Blaine walked in. Sam caught his eye and waved, smiling and Blaine happily returned it. He didn't know what it was about today, but he was pretty sure that if he tried he could fly on happy thoughts alone.

Blaine started going through his stretching routine (abbreviated) to limber up again after the break, watching Sam make his way closer out of the corner of his eye. If the past month had taught him anything, it was that his friend was almost unfairly attractive. His sleeveless shirt was tight against what appeared to be a very well built torso, the loose shorts clung to the outlines of thighs Blaine was almost envious of. And Sam's smiles reached his eyes every time and lit up his whole face. Even if his lips sometimes looked puffy from…a certain activity, the overall look was fairly close to stunning. And Blaine would not let his brain go near the differences with another pair of blue eyes or of hair swept up instead of a well-kept mop. He would not. He could casually enjoy the sight in the meantime. After all the six months was a marker for trying again, not a promise that they would try again and maybe Kurt had found another guy in New York, someone taller and more proportionate and…

A hand was waving in front of his eyes and he stepped back, startled. "Hey Blainey! I hope I didn't interrupt a life-changing thought."

Blaine shook his head, trying to refocus on the now and not on the depressing train of thoughts. This was a good day, damn it. "Nah. Just trying to remember if I have another box of tea or if I just drank the last of it."

"Man. I hate that. I record voice memos for myself and play them back when I have to remember things. My spelling isn't so good and it's just easier that way."

Sam looked uncertain about that and Blaine needed to put the carefree smile back on his face. "That's a brilliant idea. I can't believe I never thought about it before. My handwriting gets so bad sometimes I can't read what I wrote. I'll have to try the voice memo thing some time."

"It's worked for a while now for me. How has your week been?" Sam copied Blaine's stretches, stretching out his quad.

"Pretty good. How has yours been?"

"Not, uh, not nearly as great. Hey, I should probably start class. Wouldn't want to be fired for talking up the hot new kid, would I?" Blaine didn't have the heart to remind him that he had been there a month and was not new anymore as Sam flashed him a smile that didn't reach his eyes as he dropped his hold on his ankle and wove between the mats to the front of the room.

Gradually through the class Sam's smile reached his eyes again and by reclining goddess pose (or corpse for those whose hips did not enjoy reclining goddess) he was smiling freely again. Blaine hung around at the end of class, helping Sam wipe the mats down and roll them up for storage.

"Are you going to just flash pretty smiles at me or are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

Sam paused, bent over mid rolling up a mat. "Wanna go for a walk after I'm done here? Or go somewhere that…isn't here?"

"Sure. Of course. I have a few beers at my place if you want to come over."

"I need to finish up here and take a quick shower. You can…"

"I'll wait."

"You sure?"

"Yup. That's what bros do." Blaine clapped Sam's shoulder on his way past Blaine to set the now-rolled matt with its fellows. Blaine watched the tension that had crept back into Sam's frame ease itself out as the conversation diverted to the sports seasons.

Their conversation continued as they tidying the room and as Blaine followed Sam back out and, weaving through the machines, into the locker rooms. Blaine's locker clicked open and he grabbed out things, catching up to Sam where he waited at the 'Employees Only' door.

"I.. I can wait out here. I don't mind." Even though Sam knew about Blaine's sexuality (and Blaine was comfortable with himself), even in Boston there were still some men who wouldn't take kindly to being stuck in a bathroom with someone like him.

"Get your ass in here. I offered, didn't I?" Blaine nodded and scampered after Sam, who led him through a second door labeled 'Men.'

The employee's locker room looked about the same as the one for the general public. The main differences were that it was smaller, cleaner, and lacked the lingering odor of sweat and feet.

Sam's locker clanged open as Blaine towards where he hoped the sinks were. Past the bank of lockers the room opened up—three shower stalls and a couple toilet stalls across from sinks with mirrors over them. Hanging his bag off a conveniently placed hook, Blaine dampened his clean towel, still discussing the possibility that Robert Downey Jr. would force the producers to pay the cast more equally while Sam gathered his things from his locker. Towel dampened, Blaine blotted, listening to Sam's points, his voice louder as he approached. Blaine bent over to wash his face (promising himself that he would lengthen his moisturizing routine that night to make up for the hand soap). When he righted himself and dabbed at his face with his towel, his train of thought—which had been following Sam's end of the conversation—derailed itself as his eyes glanced over his shoulder in the mirror.

Sam.

Who was standing, back to Blaine, wiping himself off with the shirt he had been wearing, in only his jock strap, obviously foregoing the small changing area attached to the shower stall. Leaving Blaine with a marvelous view of Sam's well-defined back muscles flexing and his bare ass, outlined by three stripes of black fabric.

A lull in the conversation brought Blaine back to the present—Sam must have asked his opinion about something. Blaine felt his face heat up when he realized Sam had turned around and had caught him staring.

"Uh. I'm sorry."

"No problem, man. My ass is fantastic. I do enough focused training for that area. It sure as hell better be a damn fine ass."

If Blaine had thought he couldn't get any redder, he was wrong. There might as well have been lava on his face—Sam had turned to watch his own profile in Blaine's mirror as he did a few body rolls that belonged on the more scandalous of night clubs. "Sam, please."

"Hey. I'd totally want to do me if I was gay," He made a show of checking himself out in the mirror. "And I did strip down knowing you were here." He finished his speech with a hip wiggle before opening the curtain to the shower stall. "Did Doug do anything amusing this weekend?"

"Well, I found out he will only chase his tail if you hold it. Then he catches it and continues running in the circle."

A few hours later found Sam and Blaine on Blaine's couch eating pizza and watching the Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring, quoting at each other between bites. Doug was settled nearby, gobbling down the pieces of crust as they were tossed to him. When the movie was over and the pizza finished, Blaine turned to Sam on the couch, feet tucking under himself. "So. Wanna tell me what was wrong earlier?"

"Can't we just forget about it?" Blaine watched as Sam refused to look at him.

"No."

"Are you going to sit on me?"

"If you don't talk to me." This got a hint of a smile.

"It's less of a threat coming from you than it is coming from me."

Blaine waved his hand dismissively. "Technicality. Tell me what's up."

"It's stupid."

"Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. And I can tell it is."

"Okay. Just. Don't judge me for it?" Sam caught his eye this time and Blaine made sure to hold his gaze.

"Did you kick a puppy or a small child?"

Sam looked confused. "No."

"Then I won't judge you."

Sam nodded and breathed deeply a few times. "It's my sister's birthday in a few weeks and I won't be able to afford a ticket home." Blaine half-crawled across the couch and hugged him, staying silent and letting Sam talk himself out. "I knew that it probably wasn't gonna happen. But I took on extra hours everywhere I work and didn't eat out and I haven't been home in a while. For a week or so I thought it could happen. But the numbers just don't work, not if I want to pay my rent on time next month."

Blaine tightened his arms as Sam deflated. "I'm sorry."

Sam buried his face in the crook of Blaine's neck, breath hitching. Blaine didn't point out the wetness he could feel on the collar of his shirt, just held his friend until his breathing was steady and he was pulling back. Blaine looked away as Sam wiped his eyes with the edge of his shirt. "Sorry for that."

"Hey, no. You're fine. Keep apologizing and I will have to sit on you."

"Am I starting to sound like you?" Sam grinned at Blaine.

Blaine whacked the side of Sam's head and then found his wrists caught in one of Sam's hands, the other tickling up and down his sides. "Hey. H-hey. Stop. Can't. B-breathe."

"But you're so easy to tickle."

"P-please. I-I won't threaten-n it a-again." His voice went up embarrassingly high on the last word, but Sam let him wiggle free, laughing too hard at Blaine's voice. "Fine. Be mean to me. I'm getting another beer." He capped it off with an overly dramatic pout that had Sam laughing even harder (and which broke into a smile as soon as Blaine had turned to go into the kitchen).

He returned with another beer for both of them and switched out the dvds, putting in Two Towers before settling back down. And, halfway through the movie, when Merry and Pippin have to split up, Blaine forced himself not to read too much into it when he and Sam scoot closer to each other.

Blaine, still riding the high of yet another week going supremely well, decided he wanted to go out that Saturday night. He wanted to drink, he wanted to dance, he wanted to force the high to continue in a legal manner. And he wanted to not stay at home checking his email. Because early Friday morning, right after his morning run, he had emailed Kurt. An email that contained more than just the barest details. One that invited an actual conversation in return. It had been twenty-four hours with no response, and Blaine wanted to stifle the growing gnawing, twisting sensation in his stomach any time he passed his laptop. He knew what Scott would tell him, that he should examine the source of this unease and his motivations for sending the email. He also knew the answers to those questions, but admitting that he did, thinking about them? He didn't want to.

So, he had made the decision to distract himself. And Sam, still upset about not being able to make it home for his sister's birthday, agreed to go with him (Blaine might have said that it was his treat, since Sam had shot down Blaine's attempts to buy him tickets home).

Blaine dressed for the occasion, his first night on the town since he had gone dancing with Kurt (he tamped down on the compulsion to check his email again. He didn't want to taint the night with anything.) His dress shirt was a deep maroon, sleeves rolled to his elbows and the top few buttons undone to show his undershirt, unconventional with black and white stripes, his jeans were very dark and very tight, cuffed to show his coordinating maroon socks. After running his hand through his hair (with just enough product to keep the curl slightly tamed and done to look like he spent no time on it, though it had taken almost as long as choosing his outfit), he texted Sam that he was on his way over, pocketed his phone and wallet, grabbed his keys, and went to meet Sam.

They hit the most populated area of the city and hopped from bar to bar until they came across a club they liked the look of. It looked like every other bar/club that Blaine had ever been too, and that was kinda comforting. He bought himself and Sam drinks at the bar, downed his, then, with Sam's promise that he would rescue Blaine if anything went south, Blaine waded onto the dance floor.

The heavy beat of the bass thrummed through his body, and Blaine let go. He didn't worry about impressing anyone. He let the music take him away, drown all of his thoughts, leaving only the steady bass. He must not have been dancing too poorly—hands grasped at his hips, tugging him back. He moved with the stranger's hands, grinding his hips around in time with those of the man behind him, eyes drifting shut, blinking lazily into the flashing lights above him, mouth falling open as he breathed. His arms drifted up and back, around the neck of his partner. When lips grazed his neck he jerked forward, eyes flying open. When a hand at his chin tried to turn his head he stepped away completely. Pausing in the middle of the mass of writhing bodies, he managed to catch Sam's eye and flashed him a thumbs-up. He started dancing again, alone and comfortably surrounded by the mass.

After his next partner, a short woman who had no problem leading, Blaine waded out of the crowd to Sam and his seat at the bar, waving the bartender over and ordering two shots. "Come dance."

"I don't.." He refused the shot Blaine offered him. Blaine, dimly aware that he was going to regret this, since he had always been a lightweight, shrugged the awareness away and did both their shots, shuddering.

"You love dancing. I know you do. So pick your ass up off that bar stool and dance." He grabbed Sam's hand (warm callused big real real there so real) and pulled him out to dance. Blaine could feel, since Sam didn't drop his hand (stomach swooping alcohol or more?) that Sam had followed him. Blaine pulled away when they were at the middle of the crowd, spinning himself away, and, the world fuzzy at the edges and everything soft and warm he was so happy. A loose circle formed around Blaine, dancing around him, each trying to pull him closer. The attention was nice and he let it happen, changing dance partners as he was pulled around the circle. A circle that grew smaller. Until he was sandwiched between two guys, taller and bigger and pushy and touching…hips, waist, a foreign hand sliding up his chest and tilting his head up. Heart thudding too fast, this was not what he wanted, he pushed away, only to hit the chest of the guy behind him. He couldn't force his mouth to work, to call for Sam, for anyone.

A familiar hand grabbed his wrist and pulled him away. Sam. "Do you want to go or dance a little more?"

"Dance with me?"

Sam responded turning Blaine so they faced each other. Blaine's coordination was all but gone and he felt like he could only flop around. Sam's body rolls were also incredibly funny. And sexy. And Sam had saved him.

And then Blaine had closed the distance between them, yanked Sam down by his shirt, and kissed him. The lack of response from Sam didn't register, and then it did.

And Blaine wanted to scream.

Instead, he did the one thing he could do, the one thing he had gotten so good at doing since the day he found out Kurt had lied to him. He ran.

The air outside felt cold, painful stabs against his face as he tried to focus on where he was going through the haze of alcohol. Unable to remember the exact path, Blaine decided that anywhere was better than having to deal with what he had just done. Choosing left, Blaine turned and headed that direction, arms wrapped around himself in a desperate attempt to keep himself from flying apart at the seams.

A hand touched his shoulder, a voice said his name—he hadn't noticed the footsteps, too wrapped up in not falling on his face—and he jumped.

"Let's get you home, okay Blaine?" Sam's voice was calm, and home sounded like a really good idea. Only slightly less so than throwing up. The thought brought up a gag and then Sam herded him to the side, holding him so he didn't fall into his own sick. The taste in his mouth was acrid and his head hurt and he had just fucking kissed his straight friend His only friend. Blaine didn't bother to fight the darkness as it swallowed him up.

He was only dimly aware of parts of the walk home, Sam digging Blaine's key out of his pocket, being set on something hard and cold and retching some more, drinking something blissfully cool. He was asleep before Sam had helped him into his bed.

Even before he opened his eyes, Blaine knew he was in trouble. He didn't remember getting home. He remembered dancing and drinking (his stomach gave an awful churn) and fuck. Blaine really hoped that part was a dream.

Tentatively, Blaine opened one eye and then the other with a grimace. His head felt like someone had played whack-a-mole on it despite the room being dark and his mouth felt like something had died in it. Forcing himself almost upright and bracing himself at another wave of nausea, Blaine grabbed the two pills on the bedside table and chugged half of the glass of water that had been left there. When his stomach didn't insist that it rid itself of the new contents, Blaine attempted sitting fully upright.

Since sitting had worked, Blaine tried standing, holding onto the bed until his the room stopped swimming. Clad in sweats that he didn't remember putting on, Blaine made his slow way into the bathroom, relieving his aching bladder and washing his hands without bothering to turn on the light. Hand grazing the wall for balance, Blaine found the hallway and living room blissfully dark. Frowning at the couch (making his head throb a little more), which had folded blankets and a pillow on it, he registered the sounds of someone in his kitchen. Doug's nails clicked on the floor as he walked in, sending little spikes of pain into his head. With the arm of the couch as a balance, Blaine bent over to greet him, swallowing around the swoop in his stomach. If Doug wasn't concerned about the visitor in his house, Blaine probably did not need to be. It wasn't as though he could really defend himself at the moment, unless throwing up on the intruder counted.

"Doug, did Blaine finally wake up?" Sam walked out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel. "Hey! Welcome to the land of the living."

"Not living. Zombie." Blaine's voice wasn't really up to par yet, so it came out as a croak.

"No kidding. Warn me if you start craving brains or something so I can get a head start." Blaine could only nod. "Want to try some food?" Blaine nodded again and followed Sam and Doug back into the kitchen, collapsing at the table. Nothing on the plate Sam slid in front of him smells appetizing, so Blaine focused on the cup of coffee. The first sip was okay, and by the third he thought he felt well enough to try the food again.

"Thanks, Sam."

"No problem. I do need to ask, what exactly do you remember from last night?"

"Uh. We went to the club. I drank and danced. You..." He wracked his brain for what happened next. He knew something did. "You pulled some guy off of me. And..."

The memory was fuzzy, but he thought he remembered fabric under his hands and lips on his own. He dropped his head onto the table with a thunk. "Fuck." Blaine didn't know what to do with himself, didn't know why Sam got him home and made him breakfast and still talked to him. He could feel heat flush his face and tears pricking at his eyes. Why did he have to ruin everything. "I.. Fuck. I'm sorry, Sam. If you wanna leave now I won't stop you. I. Fuck. I'm sorry. I know you're not."

"Blaine. Blaine." He dragged his eyes up to meet Sam's. "It's cool, dude. You were drunk and it happens. I'm not saying it was the best kiss I have ever had. But no harm, no foul. Okay?"

Blaine nodded, head slumping down at the motion. This was too much to deal with hungover.

"I promise Blaine, nothing's gonna change between us." Sam's hand was warm on his arm then in his hair, ruffling the curls. "Finish up your breakfast while I clean up."

"You don't have to. I can clean up. Sam, you've done so much already."

"Eat, Blaine. Then shower off the zombie. And you can do this all for me when I'm drunk, deal?" Sam's smile made Blaine's heart a little lighter and he saved the feeling for later, picking up his fork again. He was polishing off his bacon as Sam set the last dish in the rack to dry and Blaine allowed himself to be ushered back into his bathroom to shower.

Sam's response to Blaine assurances that he was fine was "Yeah, but think about how much you'll have to take care of me the next time I get myself shitfaced." Blaine couldn't argue with that logic.

The world froze and then tilted on its axis: his phone had beeped, notifying him that an email had come through.

His reasons for going out in the first place, what he had been trying so desperately not to think about came racing back to him. Kurt. Because Blaine was sure that he still loved Kurt and that he would always feel that way. He was just afraid that something might happen again and Kurt would break his trust and shatter Blaine. And Blaine would let him. And that scared Blaine.

"Yo. Blaine. Blaine." Sam was waving a hand in front of Blaine's face. Blaine could only blink dumbly at him, head still spinning. "Ookay. Let's sit. That's it. Wanna tell me what set you off?"

After a few deep breaths Blaine tried to speak again. "Kurt."

"Okay. What about him, Blaine?"

It all came out in a rush-the lack of communication, the good month, the advice from both of his therapists and finally the email he had sent.

Sam didn't speak after Blaine had finished, just pulled him close and hugged him. Blaine pulled away once his breathing was back to normal. "So. You're gonna go shower, then we're gonna brave the big, bright world and go for a walk with Doug and talk this all through, okay?" Blaine nodded and stood up. "Hey, Blaine?" Blaine met Sam's eyes. "We're gonna figure this out, okay?"

His 'okay' was small, but Sam didn't seem to mind.

The shower felt like heaven on earth, the hot water beating on his back and loosening tension that he didn't know he had.

Blaine felt slightly closer to functioning as he toweled himself off and brushed his teeth. Towel securely wrapped around his hips, Blaine ventured into the bedroom, which Sam had kindly vacated.

He dragged clothes on, trying and failing to ignore his phone and that damn green light, blinking at him, taunting him. He was starting to feel like Gatsby. It was probably best that he just get it over with, right? He reached over to unplug his phone from the wall, pausing at the knock at the door. "Yeah?"

The door creaked open and Sam poked his head in. "Do you-do you want me to sit with you when you read it?"

"It might not even be him?" He ran his finger over the unlock button, not pressing hard enough to light the screen up.

Sam didn't respond, just rubbed Blaine's knee and averting his eyes as Blaine swiped his finger to unlock the screen.

One Unread Email

To: b_anderson : khummel

Subject: RE: So, it's been a while.

Blaine,

I want to start off with I miss you. Not to put any pressure on you or anything. But just to state it. I miss you.

I'm glad to hear that you are doing so well in Boston. It doesn't surprise me that you would like it there. It wouldn't surprise me if you liked it better than NYC. I can see you as an amazing piano teacher. If you haven't been there already, you should go to Trident-it's a cafe on Newberry by Massachusetts Ave. It's one of my favorites when I'm there.

For me, life has been relatively boring. I'm in DC for the time being, working for the Smithsonian in the art restoration department. I've...asked for retirement from field work, and it was granted. But they decided they did not want me in a job where there were interns who would be tormented. I couldn't imagine why they would say that...

I know it is earlier than our six month agreement, but I am going to be in Boston at the end of next week and I would love to have dinner or coffee with you. Let me know if you are free!

Love (always),

Kurt

Blaine passed his phone to Sam and let himself fall backwards onto the bed. He focused on his breathing. Because thinking about what his emotions were doing was way too confusing.

"Up. Up. We're going to get coffee and walk. Therapy is outside and you can pay me in coffee."

He put on the shoes and socks Sam had tossed to his feet, pocketed his phone, and followed Sam out to the living room where Doug was waiting for them, looking expectantly between them and the door.

It was a beautiful day outside. And, deep down, Blaine recognized that noticing the weather was generally a good sign.

His brain was just too jumbled to appreciate it.

Sam had given Blaine the leash to "give Blaine something to do". They walked, got coffee, walked some more.

Eventually, Sam pulled him onto a bench in a deserted area of a park. "Now, pick a place, any place, and start. You don't have to tell me everything if you don't want to. But just talk."

Thankfully, just talking was something Blaine could do. Each time he told the story it got a little easier to do. This time his heart clenched and his eyes misted, but he was...okay. It still hurt. It was probably always going to hurt. But he did not feel like he was going to spiral downward.

"Wow, man. Just. Wow. I'm gonna hug you now." And Sam did, then pulled back and wiped his own eyes. "Okay. Do you love Kurt?"

"Yes." Without a doubt, until his heart stutters out its last beat, possibly after.

"Do you want to see him?"

"What if something has changed?"

"One question at a time. Do you want to see him?"

"Y-yes. But what if something has changed and he doesn't love me?"

"Then you move on and find the guy who does love you. But I think Kurt might be that guy."

"Don't say that, please. You'll jinx it."

"What is your biggest fear about seeing him?"

Blaine didn't let himself have the time to overthink his answer. "Um. That things have changed? And a bit that things haven't changed at all."

"What sorts of things?"

"Everything. Mostly, I guess, I'm afraid that I have forgiven him. I don't want to be hurt that badly again."

"But that's the thing with any relationship. You trust them to not break your heart. But we're human, so shit happens and hearts get broken. Now, knowing what you do and how things turn out, would you do it all again?"

Blaine took his time thinking even though he knew what he was going to say. "Yes. I would."

"Well, that answers the question, then."

"I...I guess it does." Blaine leaned into the long arm wrapped around his shoulders, scratching behind Doug's ears when the dog used Blaine's knee as a chin rest.

Saturday, September 14

To: khummel

From: b_anderson

Subject: RE: It's been a while

Dear Kurt,

I'm sorry to hear that your job is boring. Maybe think of it as a welcome break? Restoration sounds like it is right up your alley, I'm glad they found a job for you that you like. Now that you live in DC, do you spend your free time walking around looking at the sights? The monuments at night are my favorite. If you have time, you should check out when the Marine Corps Band does its free concerts.

I'd really like to see you. I was thinking coffee at Triton? Let me know when you are free.

I really miss you too.

Love always,

Blaine

It was Thursday night and Blaine was just finishing up his break between sets, leaning against the bar sipping his water. The bartender was one of Sam's friends and they got to bond over action movies between customers. Rory nodded at the group that walked in. Blaine glanced over and almost choked on his water. Familiar chestnut hair, gracefully swept up. Eyes a shade of blue he never would forget met his own and he forgot how to breathe.

"Kurt." The name came unbidden to his lips, exhaled like a long remembered prayer.

Blaine couldn't hear Kurt's response but could read his lips, memory telling him how his name sounded on Kurt's lips. Unable to move, Blaine watched Kurt excuse himself from his group and walk around the bar to stand in front of Blaine.

"I didn't expect-"

"I didn't know-"

They both stopped, Blaine looked down and felt his face flush hot. Kurt's hand brushed his and he met Kurt's eyes. "I didn't know you worked here."

"I..uh..yeah. This and one other club."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know. I would have suggested a different place."

"No, Kurt." Kurt's hand felt warm and big and the contact made him ache as he covered it with his hand, neither saying anything when their hands shook. "I don't mind that you're here. It's...it's really good to see you."

"It's good to see you too."

Over Kurt's shoulder, Blaine could see the manager waving him over. "I..uh..I have to go finish my set. D-do you want to go get something to eat or a coffee after this, I know a diner we can go to? Or we can just wait until we were going to meet on Saturday if you are busy or have an early day tomorrow?"

"I'll be free after this. I'll be waiting for you here."

"Okay. Okay. I'm just gonna..."

"Break a leg, Blaine." Blaine was really happy that Kurt seemed just as nervous as he felt, their matching smiles shaking as Blaine pulled himself off the barstool and walked back over to the piano.

Despite knowing that Kurt was in the audience, Blaine did not find himself forgetting the words or the notes or how to play the piano (which had been his primary concern). He finished his set without incident and walked away from the piano to light applause. His heart skipped a beat when he scanned the bar for Kurt and found him, sitting next to an open chair, two glasses next to him. Even almost six months after everything, Blaine's heart flew at Kurt's smile. It was almost as if nothing had happened. Blaine was finishing his set, Kurt had his seat and his drink, they would go back to one of their apartments and...

Except it wasn't eight months ago.

It was now.

And, in the few seconds it took to weave his way to Kurt, Blaine decided that he was 95% sure that he wanted this and 100% nervous. After all, Kurt had broken his heart once already.

"You were amazing, Blaine. Not that you weren't before."

"Kurt?" Kurt looked up, biting his lip and looking so scared and they really needed to talk but Blaine was too tired right now to have serious, life-altering conversations. "It's me and you. We were never this...awkward. Could we, just for tonight, pretend that everything is okay and that we're just friends getting coffee? I..I know we need to talk about...everything. But would it be okay if we didn't do that tonight?"

"Yes, yes. Of course." Kurt's voice was high and nervous and Blaine's heart hurt because this wasn't them and talking would make everything better. But he just couldn't deal with that right now. He wanted his illusion that things might work out. Just for that night.

Blaine sat down on the seat Kurt had saved and sipped from the drink Kurt had gotten him. It was his normal order. "You remembered my order?"

"Of course." Blaine liked that Kurt seemed offended that Blaine had asked.

"When did you get in? How was your flight?"

"Train, actually. And a few hours ago. I dropped my bags off at the hotel and had a meeting with some people from the museum here. Then some of the restorers decided to go out for drinks and invited me to join them. When they said that there was going to be live music it didn't cross my mind that it would be you. I'm so sorry..."

"Kurt. Stop. I'm glad you came and that I got to see you." His drink finished, Blaine made to stand up. "I'm going to go get my stuff, wait here for me?" He waited for Kurt's nod before leaving, returning quickly. "Still up for watery coffee and diner food? My favorite place to go after gigs isn't far away." Kurt nodded and followed Blaine's lead through the bar.

The diner was two blocks away. Two blocks filled with a silence verging on awkward. But if Blaine knew Kurt, and he thought he did, Kurt would need more time to get his feet back under him and process whatever he was currently feeling-he had never been good at surprises. By the time Blaine was holding open the door to the diner for him Kurt's head was up and their fingers had been brushing, close to tangling together for the past fifty steps.

As they were seated in a booth with cracked vinyl seats, Blaine spoke before Kurt could, grabbing his hand where it rested on his half of the table. "Don't apologize. You needed to process. We didn't expect to see each other and it has been a while."

Kurt nodded and stroked his thumb over Blaine's hand, not pulling back until the waiter came to take their orders.

"You look really good, Blaine. Really...happy."

"You look tired." Kurt cracked a smile at that. "Long week?"

"Long month, but this week in particular has been bad."

"What happened?"

It was silent except for the clinking of their spoons against their coffee cups. "I don't mind telling you the details. But it...it kinda will probably have to deal with us. And you said that you didn't want to talk about us tonight."

"Tell me one thing. Is it good news or bad news?"

"Good news. Definitely good news." Blaine's stomach, which had decided to crawl around, settled at the pronouncement.

"Okay. So tell me on Saturday. Um. Have you seen any good movies recently?"

Kurt cocked his eyebrow as if to say 'Really, Blaine?' but he answered anyway.

The ice seemingly broken, their conversation only paused to thank the waiter for bringing their food (a slice of cheesecake for Kurt and a turkey wrap for Blaine). When their coffees had been refilled twice, Blaine finally looked down at his watch. "It's late. You probably have things to do tomorrow."

"I do, sadly."

They both reached for the check, Blaine snatching it away just before Kurt took it. "Ha! I asked you tonight, I am paying."

"Only if I pay on Saturday." Kurt's smile made Blaine smile and they needed to go slow, he wanted to go slow, but he had missed Kurt so much, all he wanted to do was kiss him. Blaine blinked and forced himself under control. It was just the adrenaline of a evening that went well when it should have crashed and burned.

"I will agree to those terms." Leaving a decent tip for the poor waiter, Blaine waited for Kurt to pay and held the door as they left. As their conversation picked back up, it took everything in his power to not reach for Kurt's hand or link their arms. After their conversation Saturday, maybe he would allow himself to. But for now, as he followed Kurt into a cab and blushed through Kurt's kiss on his cheek outside his apartment, Blaine was happy with what he had. Scared for what might happen for the future? Petrified that he would let Kurt in and he would end up shattered, possibly irreparably so? Yes. For the moment, however, Blaine was happy.