"I can't believe she talked me into this," Blaine sighed, as Kurt closed the passenger side door to his used-car. Kurt was dressed in his usual 'camouflage' outfit, one that he usually wore when he was out in public. He was, in fact, a Broadway legend. He has had dinner with presidents, owned dozens of awards, and has been honored by many organizations. Everyone on the East Coast knew who he was, and he definitely didn't want to risk getting caught engaging with his ex-husband.

"I can," Kurt smiled, "She had you wrapped around her finger since day one." It was true, he thought to himself. Although he tried not to show it, the bond between Blaine and his daughter always made Kurt jealous. He and Blaine had countless arguments when they were married, disapproving of each other's parenting style. Blaine argued that Kurt was never there, and when he was, he was far too strict with Elizabeth. Kurt argued that Blaine was too worried about having their daughter's approval, and therefore wasn't strict enough. What they both agreed on, however, was that Elizabeth was always daddy's little girl.

"That's true," Blaine laughed, "But the real question is, how did she convince you?" When Kurt was seated and comfortable, he turned the car engine back on and navigated his way through the parking lot.

"I had a lack of options," Kurt replied, using a playful tone, "Plus, I think she wants us to spend more time together," he added, earning him a questionable look, "She wants us to get along."

"We'll see how long that lasts," his ex-husband smiled sadly. "Anyways," Blaine continued, sounding much more uppity, "where is our first destination, Mr. Hummel?"

"To the stars," Kurt sighed dramatically, causing both of them to laugh.

"Titanic, Kurt, really?"

"I couldn't help myself," he giggled, "Me and Elizabeth found a really cute shop online." Kurt took it upon himself to put the address into the GPS, indicating that it would take about an hour with no traffic to reach the place.

"First of all, it's ' Elisabeth and I'," Blaine corrected, earning him an eye roll, "and secondly, how the hell are we supposed to spend an hour in the car without arguing? I don't even think we pulled that off when we were newlyweds."

"Don't be so pessimistic," Kurt smiled, "Maybe we can just listen to the radio." At that, he turned the radio on, quickly wincing at the noise he was hearing.

"What's wrong?" Blaine asked, concerned.

"Sorry, it's nothing really. Today's music just gives me migraines," he replied. Popular music over the last decade, in Kurt's opinion, was garbage. It was a mix between club music, disco, rap, and grunge. The lyrics were a lot more racy than when he was young, which was saying a lot. It's like they couldn't decide on which genre to choose from, so they just threw all of them together and called it music.

"Wait, migraines?" Kurt just nodded, lowering the volume. "Since when did you get migraines?"

"Since I got a concussion nine years ago from a jealous understudy," he sighed. "He totally did it on purpose, but I have no proof."

"Was it a hate crime?" Blaine felt his veins start to burn.

"Relax, before you hurt yourself," Kurt giggled. He nearly reached out to comfort him, but stopped himself, "He hated my talent, but he was very gay and very disturbed." Blaine softened at the explanation, nodding his head. "Let's not talk about that, anyways. Let's talk about why you listen to this crap in the first place."

"Elizabeth used it last. The car, I mean. I usually turn it to 94.1 Classics." After a few pressed buttons, the music changed. Poker Face, by Lady Gaga was about halfway through. Satisfied, he turned to his ex-husband for approval. Kurt had both of his hands covering his mouth, small choking noises escaping him. Before he had time to panic, Kurt released his hands and began howling with laughter. "So, do you mind telling me what is so funny, or can you not speak through your laughter?"

A full minute later, he finally calmed down, until another song started playing, making him laugh more. Through his tears, he saw Blaine chuckle a few times, even if he didn't know why. Kurt couldn't take it any longer, so he completely shut the radio off, finally catching his breath.

"You know what this means, right?" Kurt looked at Blaine, who was still genuinely confused. "Music that we used to listen to is on classic radio."

"So what are you saying? We're classic?"

"That's one way of putting it," he smiled, still waiting for Blaine to get it, "We're old, dummy! It's official now."

"We are not old," Blaine emphasized on the last word, "we're just not young." He was not old. He wasn't even fifty. Every time Elizabeth referred to him as her old man, he would defend himself. His ex referring to them both being old, however, was something he couldn't ignore.

"Oh honey, it must suck living in denial," Kurt teased.

"I'm not in denial," he huffed in annoyance, "I mean, look at you. You're older than I am and you don't have a gray hair in sight." Blaine expected a witty retort, but he was met with awkward silence. He looked at Kurt suspicious, who looked like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Kurt?"

"What?" He tried to sound innocent, but it wasn't working, judging by the ridiculous smile growing on his ex-husband's face.

"Oh my God, Kurt Hummel has gray hair?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"When?" Blaine asked, practically bouncing in his seat.

"When, what?" He still tried to fake his ignorance, but there was no getting out of this one. "Okay, fine, I'll tell you, but you have to swear you won't judge me."

"I swear I won't judge you," Blaine said robotically, "Now, when was your first gray?"

"I was in my thirties," he spat out, hoping that would end the conversation.

"Early, mid, or late thirties?" Blaine was really pushing it, but he really didn't care. He noticed Kurt rubbing his collar bone, a sign that he was uncomfortable.

"Early?" Kurt answered, in the form of a question. It took a moment for Blaine to process the fact that he grayed at such a young age, until he remembered.

"Oh my God. That doesn't make sense. You were thirty-four when we divorced, and I never noticed a single strand." The wheels in his head were turning, trying to connect the dots.

"Remember when I told you I had to dye my hair for my role in Wicked?" Kurt asked nervously, "That wasn't entirely true." A long period of time passed before Blaine finally spoke up.

"You were thirty, if I remember correctly. You got the news two days after your birthday. I insisted that we celebrate, but you said you'd rather share this moment with your husband and daughter, eating takeout and watching the Wizard of Oz. You even stained your favorite pajamas with red wine, and you didn't even flinch. That night, we spent hours playing hide and seek with Lizzy, until we were all too exhausted to move. We built a pillow fort in the living room. We fell asleep with her between us, and the last thought I had before I fell asleep was how lucky I was to have the two most incredible people to call my own." Blaine was in a trance when he told the story, basically reliving every moment and every feeling of what he considered one of the best nights of his life.

"That was one of the best nights of my life," Kurt replied, as if he read his mind. Blaine smiled sadly, beginning to speed up as he hit the interstate.

"Why didn't you tell me about your hair?" Blaine asked.

"We didn't tell each other a lot of things. I figured there was no harm in adding it to the list." It was true, Kurt thought. The last years of their marriage, they were either fighting or avoiding each other. There were incredible nights, such as the one his ex-husband had described in full detail. As uncommon as those moments were, they were what made every argument bearable. It was those moments that he looked forward to. The last year of their marriage, those moments were nonexistent. It was then when they realized that it was over. And it was. Kurt thought that his last comment would've ended their conversation, and expected to spend the rest of the trip drowning in silence, but Blaine continued to speak.

"Well, since this seems to be honesty hour, how about we play a game?"

"A game?" Kurt asked, confused as to why Blaine wanted to talk to him, let alone play a game with him. "What is the game called?"

"Honesty hour, duh," Blaine smiled, "I want to know more about you."

"But we already know each other."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong," he said, "We know our old selves, but a lot can happen in fifteen years."

"I doubt you've changed that much," Kurt laughed, "I bet you still wear the same brand of boxer briefs."

"Briefs."

"What?"

"I wear briefs now," Blaine admitted, laughing at the confused look on his ex-husband's face, "I told you. A lot can happen in fifteen years."

"But why? Are you trying to not get laid? For crying out loud, my dad wore briefs. Only old people wear them. Have I taught you nothing?" Maybe Kurt was being overdramatic, but he honestly could not picture the guy next to him wearing briefs on purpose. Kurt only wore them when it was absolutely necessary, depending on his wardrobe, but never on purpose.

"Old people? Weren't you the one telling me to stop denying the fact that I'm old? I'm willing to bet that wearing briefs is in one of the twelve steps to acceptance."

"Just because we are old does not mean we have to act old," Kurt huffed, "Take your hair, for example. Why the hell haven't you dyed it yet? You would look ten years younger. Don't you care about your image?"

"You are so much like Elizabeth, it's scary."

"No, Elizabeth is just like me," Kurt smiled, "so I'll take that as a compliment."

"She and I just had this conversation. I don't color it because it makes me look more experienced. People actually take me seriously," Blaine confessed, "And you, of all people, understand how hard it was for me to be taken seriously as a teacher."

"Yeah, I remember," Kurt frowned, "I raised so much hell at that school district." This caused Blaine to laugh.

"I'm sure they've never recovered from hurricane Hummel," he added, "Okay, my turn for a question. Do you have any new talents?"

"What kind of talents?" Kurt raised his eyebrow suggestively, causing Blaine could choke on his own spit.

"PG talents, Kurt. You're so bad," he laughed.

"I'm a lot of things, but I'm definitely not bad," Kurt replied mock seductively, sending both of them into a giggle fit. When they caught their breath, he continued, "I did learn how to wiggle my ears," he said, demonstrating his new skill.

"Impressive," Blaine approved.

"Okay, my turn," he smiled playfully, "Favorite color?"

"Elizabeth's eyes," Blaine replied.

"Don't you mean my eyes?" Kurt asked. When they were married, Blaine would always say Kurt's eyes were his favorite color, and his daughter's were exact replicas.

"Not exactly," Blaine said, glancing at the confused man next to him, "Elizabeth's eyes are about half a shade greener when she's upset, and almost a full shade more blue when she's happy or excited," he explained.

"You really know your colors," Kurt said, feeling oddly jealous of his daughter.

"What about boyfriends?" Blaine asked, completely catching him off guard.

"What about them?" Suddenly, it felt like a sauna in the car.