When Blaine beckoned him to dance, Kurt stumbled, shaking his head profusely and trying to back away until those warm hands were in his again, pulling him in, huge eyes pleading and impossible to turn down.

They twirled and turned together, shaking their hips and laughing in the middle of the park in broad, beautiful daylight. Kurt didn't know if anybody was watching them. He didn't care. For the first time since he was small, since he was just a little boy holding his father's hand in a cemetery, he felt like the world wasn't so heavy after all.

By monday he was caught up in the ball preparations, his mind a blur of fantasy and song. His imagination ran wild with every story Blaine told him of Daltasia, and slowly the daydreams crept into his designs.

He could see it all so clearly in flashes behind his eyes; the long flowing gowns and deep velvety tunics, the boots and the capes, all in perfect Technicolor, lost in the fairytale that lingered in his thoughts when he drifted to sleep each night.

He finished the designs in less than a day and advanced them to Macy, hoping the delay wouldn't put off the bigger celebrity names the label was dressing for the evening. The gowns were impeccable - his best work in a long time - but his favourite, of course, was his own suit. It was flawless; the amalgamation of decades of daydreaming, and one week of life with a prince.

Satisfied and feeling unburdened at last come monday evening, he tried to relax into the couch, and soak in the quiet.

He lasted five minutes before he was checking the clock, and shooting absent glances to the front door.

Rachel and Blaine had been out all day at her insistence, convinced she'd found him a princess at last. Blaine had been less than enthusiastic about the outing, but was seemingly incapable of declining, even politely.

Kurt tried to ignore the tiny thrill he'd felt at the look on Blaine's face, the little regretful glance as he was dragged out the door.

But they'd been gone all day, and now Kurt's stomach felt like it was trapped somewhere near his ribs, churning and bubbling incessantly as he got up to pace and tidy things that didn't need tidying.

It doesn't take a whole day to say no, his mind taunted him. What if he found her?

He stopped, and stared at the wall for a long moment, his brow knitting together tightly.

His stupid magical princess, and her stupid perfect fairytale hair and her stupid, insipid eyes. I bet they're beady.

He flopped on the couch with a sigh, scolding himself quietly.

But what if he did find her?

Kurt glanced at the clock again, trying to ignore the voice in his head.

How could she ever turn him down?

He rubbed his eyes, desperately trying to think about anything else.

Without warning the door rattled and swung open, and he straightened in his seat, putting on a bright and innocent smile. "Oh," he said, feigning surprise. "You're back."

Rachel swept into the room smoothly with bags hanging from both arms, Blaine not far behind her with handfuls of his own.

"We had a wonderful day!" she began excitedly, dropping her things on the coffee table and pulling off her gloves.

"Really?" Kurt asked, trying for nonchalance.

He caught Blaine's fond smile, and smiled back for a moment before he noticed it: something was different about his expression, something strange and unfamiliar.

Then he realised. Blaine was tired.

Not sleepy, but exhausted like he'd never seen him before. Tiny crinkles had formed at the edges of his eyes where his smile reached, his frame sagged slightly, and his stubble was growing through, just the faintest shadow across his cheeks and chin.

Kurt watched him, stunned and unsure as to how he'd never noticed the stubble or the little smile lines before.

They weren't there before.

"We've been shopping," Rachel told him seriously, slipping off her coat and handing it to Blaine to hang by the door.

"I can see that," Kurt answered, and poked the bags on the coffee table with his toe.

The vast majority seemed to be Rachel's, but at least two tall bags set by the wall were from bookstores. He huffed out a soft, fond laugh.

"So," he said carefully, glancing between the two of them. "No luck with your princess?"

Rachel tipped her head, wearing that one look Kurt knew all too well. That look that said, I've done something, and I don't want to tell you what it is yet.

"Sadly no," Blaine replied, oblivious. "Lady Rachel's friend was a beautiful and kind lady, but she is … not the princess for me."

Kurt almost grinned at how awkward he seemed, how hard he was struggling to find kindness around his obvious distaste.

Rachel's mouth quirked into a tiny smile, her eyes bright and a little mischievous. "Don't worry, Blaine," she said, turning to pat his arm comfortingly. "I promise we'll keep looking."

Blaine gave her a nod, but his faint smile lacked any kind of reassurance.

Kurt could hear what he was thinking, it was written all over his face. There's only four days left.

"Well," he said brightly. "I finished my work today. That means I have a few days free, I can… help."

"Oooh, you finished!" Rachel clapped excitedly, turning back to him. "I can't wait to see my dress! Is it amazing? I mean, I know it's going to be amazing. But is it amazing?"

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Would I create anything less than amazing for the shining star that is Rachel Berry, at the social event of the season?"

She scrunched her nose up in delight, shaking her tiny fists against her chest.

"You're preparing for a gathering?" Blaine asked, intrigued.

Kurt sat back in surprise. All this time, and he hadn't mentioned the ball once to Blaine, too caught up in everything else they could do and see for however long he had him there.

A cold shiver trickled down Kurt's spine at the reminder, the knowledge that lingered at the periphery of his everyday thoughts; Blaine would be gone in four days.

"Oh!" Rachel spun around, hair flying. "Oh, yes, the ball is on thursday night! You have to come!"

Blaine blinked at her, eyes widening. "A ball?"

"A ball," she enthused, taking his hand as she swayed. "With gowns, and suits, and music. I have another ticket, you can come, please say you will?"

He shifted on his feet, surprised. "I… yes, of course," he agreed. "A ball would certainly be the place to meet a princess, I suppose."

"Yes!" she squealed, diving to hug around his waist.

Blaine rocked back for a moment, laughing softly as she squeezed him and let go.

"I should put together a suit for you," Kurt suggested.

"Is this not appropriate?" Blaine asked, pressing his hands to the crest of his tunic.

Kurt squinted at him and offered gently; "It might need a rest."

Blaine chuckled. "Thank you, Kurt," he said, sincerity lighting up his eyes. "That would be wonderful."

"I'll need to get your measurements, later," Kurt added absently as he stood. "Remind me."

Blaine nodded, mouth curling into a shy smile as he helped Rachel collect her things, and take them to her room.

Dinner was Italian, and the three of them gathered around the table, sipping red wine and laughing over Blaine's misadventures trying to master the act of eating fettuccini.

By the time the dishes were in the sink, Blaine had disappeared to the bathroom to clean up for the evening, and Kurt lingered at the table with Rachel to revel in the rarity of having her stay home for the night.

Once she'd heard the bathroom door slip shut, she sipped her red wine, fixing Kurt with a devious look. "So, Blaine and I talked a lot today…"

He knew that tone. That tone was loaded.

"Spill."

"We talked," she said casually, swirling the liquid in her glass. "He told me about the library. About the museums and galleries, and all the things he's learned."

Kurt smiled softly, gaze drifting over the bags of books still leaning against the wall.

She glanced up to the ceiling innocently. "He talks about you a lot."

His eyes flicked back to her, wide with surprise for a moment before he shook his head slightly. "Rachel, I-"

"Don't tell me you don't see the way he smiles at you, the way he talks to you."

"He smiles at everyone," Kurt said insistently, keeping his tone hushed. "The other day he introduced himself to a dog."

She leaned in, undeterred. "He's not looking for a princess, Kurt! At least, he doesn't want to be."

He sighed, rocking back in his seat and linking his hands around a raised knee, hugging it to his chest. "It doesn't mean anything. He just wants to stay. He wants to learn."

Rachel nodded in agreement. "He's leaning so fast," she said. "And pretty soon, he's going to find out that love isn't… black and white, like it is in fairytales."

"So?"

"So," she drew a deep breath, "be gentle."

With a huff of laughter, Kurt reached out and took his glass. "Rachel, I am the worst person to teach him about love," he said, sipping his wine.

"Maybe." She smiled knowingly. "But that doesn't mean you're not the right person. And sometimes we don't get a choice."

Kurt narrowed his eyes at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't pretend like you don't know," she said, rising to her feet and turning toward the living room.

She'd barely taken a step before she gasped violently and staggered on the spot, gripping the top of her chair.

"Rachel!" he rushed to his feet to brace her.

Blinking, she stared across the open space, face frozen in fear as her throat flashed with panicky breaths.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

She seemed to come back to herself after a moment, and her eyes drifted shut for a beat before she swallowed and opened them again, peering over to the bookshelf mirror.

"Nothing," she said. "Just… I thought I saw…"

Kurt lifted his brow at her questioningly.

"It was nothing," she insisted. "Just … my imagination."

She gave him a weak smile and a pat on the arm before she made her way to the coffee table. He watched carefully for a moment, uneasy like he hadn't been in a long time. Finally, he shook his head, and turned to gather the wine glasses.

He certainly wasn't unfamiliar with Rachel's more dramatic outbursts, he'd been witness to plenty, and was usually the one that had to calm her down afterwards. It had just been so long, he honestly couldn't remember the last time it happened.

He let her go, let her gather her bags and head off to her room to no doubt unpack (and colour coordinate and alphabetise) her newest wardrobe additions while he did the dishes and let his mind wander over absent thoughts of the ball, and ideas for Blaine's suit.

By the time he'd found his sketchbook and started drafting ideas, Blaine had re-emerged from the bathroom and collected his new books, settling in to the couch and stacking them delicately before he went about trying to decide which one to read first.

Kurt sat at the dining table with his glasses pushed up the bridge of his nose and smudges over his fingers as he worked, hashing out different ideas on silhouette after silhouette. He didn't really register the swooping lines he'd stopped to draw, the tiny waves of hair, the huge, bright eyes and perfectly curved mouths on each of them.

Rachel's voice floated across the room, singing along with the soft music trickling from the stereo while Blaine hunched over the huge, glossy book he'd selected, eyes suddenly wide and wandering over words and pictures.

At the turn of a page, his mouth fell open, fingers gripping the hard cover tightly. He blinked, pressing his mouth together in a thin line as his gaze drifted across the floor, lost in thought.

Still wrapped up in his work, Kurt hadn't noticed, and when Rachel suddenly bumped into his side he almost jumped out of his seat.

"Ooh, I like that one," she said, leaning over and tapping the paper with her finger. "I like all of them."

"That's very helpful," Kurt said dryly, shading down the lines of a coat.

"It's funny, you know," she said, voice deliberately soft. "I've never seen you draw faces on your designs before."

Kurt froze.

With a little smirk, she wiggled her hips slightly, one hand on the back of his chair.

Kurt glared at her for a moment before he returned his attention to his sketches. "So how's the work hiatus going?" he asked teasingly.

She huffed a heavy sigh, straightening. "Don't start."

"I wasn't starting anything," Kurt said quickly, keeping his eyes down.

"I just… I had so many dreams," she began seriously, and Kurt tried not to smile to widely.

If there was one thing he knew would always distract Rachel Berry, it was a subject change to the topic of Rachel Berry.

"I've lived them all," she said, incredulous. "All of my dreams. All these years on Broadway. All the awards. I did that movie."

"Uhuh," Kurt nodded, still focused on his work.

"I feel like I… I feel like there has to be more, you know? Like something's missing, something more important than singing on a stage."

Kurt gave her a mocking gasp, pressing a hand to his chest.

She shoved him playfully. "You know what I mean."

Neither of them noticed that Blaine had shifted his book from his lap, giving it one last hesitant glance and making sure it stayed open at the right page before he padded quietly over to Rachel's side.

"Besides," Rachel went on, "I feel like things are starting to change now. Like it's time for something new - oh, hi sweetie," she said suddenly as Blaine took her hand in his, then quickly turned her attention back to Kurt. "Like something big is coming, you know?"

"Rachel, you always think something big is coming," Kurt said, his pencil scratching across the page. He pushed his glasses up with the back of his hand. "And what about this new guy of yours, what does he think?"

She paused for a moment, mouth and eyes both pinching slightly. "About that-"

Kurt glanced up at her hesitation, but the look on Blaine's face distracted him instantly.

He was standing very still, his eyes cast down to where he held Rachel's hand in his own like it was a tiny bird, like a puzzle he couldn't quite figure out. His mouth twitched in confusion, and he dragged a thumb over the back of her hand carefully, seemingly waiting for something to happen.

"Blaine? What are you doing?" Kurt asked, amused.

Blaine dropped her hand like it had burned him, eyes darting up. "I - was just. Checking."

"Checking?" Kurt asked.

Rachel leaned back, glancing over to the couch and the open book splayed on the cushions. "Oh," she mouthed softly in understanding.

She lifted both hands to Blaine's shoulders, guiding him back over to sit on the couch as she collected the book and examined the page he was on.

With a sweet smile, she handed it back to him. "So you were…?"

He tapped the top of the page, the little block letters above the picture of a man and a woman, holding hands: Heterosexuality.

She tilted her head at him. "Nothing?"

He shook his head, wincing. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't apologise," she cut him off, sitting down next to him and leaning over to flip through the book and find the next chapter title. "Read this one."

"What is that?" Kurt asked, peering across the room.

Rachel straightened at the sound of his voice. "Human anatomy," she said, a little too quickly.

Kurt tried to hold in his exasperated sigh as he went back to his sketches. Fantastic, Rachel. Teach him about body parts and he's going to start asking people how their spleens are doing today.

She watched Kurt carefully until she was sure he was distracted again, smiling to herself.

"Oh my," Blaine breathed softly beside her, his voice so quiet it was barely audible.

She turned back to him, gaze falling to the full page illustration open in his lap, glossy in painted watercolour print. With a soft smile, she rested a hand on his back, and realised he was trembling.

"What is it?" she asked in hushed tones, blinking back surprise when she realised there was moisture gathering in his lashes, glittering in his huge, tea-stained eyes.

He rested a hand on the drawing, fingers tracing over the curves of the bodies intertwined on the page.

"I …"

She decided to give him a moment, to let him process, unsure if he even understood.

"It's so beautiful," he said on trembling lips, eyelashes fluttering softly. His voice cracked on the whisper of his words; "I didn't… I didn't know."

"Shhh," she rubbed his back soothingly, resting her chin on his shoulder.

The drawing was stunningly intimate, the two naked bodies coiled together, arms around each other in a passionate embrace. One of the men had his fingers twined through the other's hair, pressing their foreheads together as he rested in his lap, lost in the act of lovemaking.

"Keep reading," she said softly. "There's more."

He nodded, not quite able to speak, and hesitantly turned the page as she pulled herself up off the couch.

"I'm going to bed," she announced, wandering back over to the table and dropping a kiss on Kurt's forehead.

He didn't look up. "Mm-hmm."

"Don't forget to take measurements," she reminded him with a tiny, crooked smile.

"Mm-hmm."

Her smile spread into a grin as she slipped away, pausing at the open hallway to call back a soft goodnight to both of them.

It was a long time before the CD switched over the in stereo, the soft click drawing Kurt's attention up at last as he finished off his sketch. It had taken several tries, and then a combination of three of them, to find exactly what he wanted. Something elegant, but the right cut, the right shape, to maybe remind Blaine of home.

He glanced over to the couch where Blaine had drawn his feet up, book propped against them and arms curled around the cover, eyes flashing. It was still the same book, he realised as he stood and found his measuring tape in his bag.

"Blaine?"

"Hmm?" Blaine looked up, stunned like a deer caught in headlights.

Kurt tilted his head in invitation. "I need to measure you for your suit, come here for a minute?"

Blaine's mouth fell open briefly as he paused, blinking, and finally drew the book together carefully. He moved to put it on the lamp table, slow and steady like he was handling something precious, before he rose to his feet and shuffled over.

Kurt's mouth twitched into a hint of a smile at the way Blaine's toes curled in the bottom of the too-long sweat pants. It made him seem so child-like and still so innocent.

"Stand like this," Kurt instructed, demonstrating with his own body and waiting while Blaine mimicked him carefully.

He dropped down to his knees, uncurling the tape and sticking his pencil in his mouth, his notepad falling to the floor with an audible slap.

Focused on his task and scribbling down numbers quickly, he didn't see the way Blaine watched him, eyes still too bright and too wet in the warm light. He didn't feel Blaine's fingers ghosting in the air over his head, hesitant and shaking. They curled into loose, faltering fists and drew back, falling at his side and opening again, long fingers still twitching with the aftershocks of discovery.

Kurt tucked his notepad under his arm as he worked his way up, wrapping the tape around Blaine's hips and waist, measuring his shoulders and stopping each time to scratch down another set of numbers.

He took a quick neck measurement before he noticed the way Blaine's jaw was shaking, the flash of his throat in the soft light too fast and too uneven. Kurt looked up, worried, and caught the shimmer in Blaine's eyes as he stared openly, breathing through his mouth, face unreadable but so utterly wrecked in a way Kurt had never seen him.

"Hey, hey," Kurt reached out to hold his shoulders, searching his face. "What is it?"

Blaine swayed on his feet at the touch, staggering slightly, and Kurt's grip tightened on instinct before he dropped his hands to Blaine's waist to anchor him. "Whoa, what is it?"

"I-" Blaine blinked, still dazed, mouth trying to shape around words that never came.

"What happened?" Kurt asked, expression riddled with concern.

Blaine's eyes met his for just a moment before they trailed up to his hairline. After a moment lost in the quiet, his firm, warm fingers brushed gently through Kurt's hair, grazing over his temple.

Kurt couldn't help the puzzled smile that flashed across his face. "Wh- what are you--?"

Blaine swallowed, watching his own hand thread through Kurt's hair slowly, gently, taking his time.

"I missed you… today," he said, voice raw and straining.

Kurt huffed out a soft laugh, relief washing over him. "I … missed you too," he admitted. "But I'm free now, so we can go - back to the library tomorrow, if you want. Or somewhere new?"

Blaine leaned in, swaying towards him bodily and pressing their foreheads together, his breath heavy and breaking away from him in uncontrolled bursts.

Kurt's eyes drifted closed at the contact, lost in the sudden rush of exquisite, stomach-fluttering panic that came with Blaine's fingers in his hair, and the feel of him leaning so close.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked, blinking and a little shaky himself from the warmth that was rising in his chest.

"I'm…" Blaine met his eyes, eyelashes flickering rapidly for a moment before he wet his lips and seized a slow breath. "I'm wonderful."

Kurt laughed soundlessly, pulling back and letting Blaine's head drop down to the crook of his neck as he held the trembling prince in a tight hug.

"You scared me," he said softly. "I thought you were sick."

Blaine sniffed gently against his skin, hiding his face in Kurt's shirt and trying to calm his breathing.

"I'm wonderful," he repeated quietly, arms curled tightly around Kurt's body like it was a lifeline.

Kurt dropped his head, pressing a soft kiss into Blaine's hair before he realised what he was doing. Blaine seemed to relax against him at the touch, warm and pliant and perfectly moulded to his frame.

Kurt closed his eyes as they stood still together, lingering in the quiet of the night.

If fairytales aren't real, he wondered to himself, then what's this?

With his back was turned to the bookcase, and Blaine's face pressed against his neck, neither of them saw the flicker of movement caught in the reflection of the mirror,

In the shadows, where two eyes watched them silently under the surface of the glass.