After Blaine had played a set at a local club on a Tuesday night, he meandered over to the bar.

"Blue Moon, please, Nick" he said to the bartender. When Blaine played at his club every other Thursday, Nick noticed the curly haired musician always drank beer, never liquor, even when someone came up and handed it right to him. Nick wouldn't have been able to guess that even in his flesh body, Blaine still couldn't help but associate vodka with rubbing alcohol, which had been used as a weapon to dissolve ink. For some reason rum was an exception, but Blaine felt uncomfortable with it, since it was mostly used for meditation and ceremonies.

On this particular evening, a man approached him and sat down without asking permission. The man was good looking enough and his body language told Blaine he might be interested, so Blaine replied to his pickup line of "You're an amazing musician" with his usual response: "I have a boyfriend." As Blaine looked up into this guy's eyes, though, he recognized them.

"Blaine Anderson, I would remember you anywhere. That speech you gave at my school really inspired me to go out and find my attrition-mate. And yes, I know that you have a boyfriend, in fact I have seen you two together." As he said this, his face took on an involuntary sour look, as if he had just accidentally bitten directly into a lemon. "What you're doing is disgusting, Blaine. I looked up to you, you know."

Blaine didn't remember this guy's name and he didn't care to at this point. After mumbling "I don't have to answer to you" while averting his eyes, Blaine felt his face flush with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. He abandoned his beer, and walked quickly out of the club. He wished he could have averted his ears too, but he couldn't help but hear the guy shout after him.

"Just looking at you makes me want to puke, it's unnatural. You could have been so good in this life but look at you, you have become...." The rush of wind outside mercifully blocked out the last words.

--DTYDTY--

When Blaine arrived home an hour later, Kurt was making a late snack for them, a fruit and cheese plate with sweet red wine. The candles were lit on their small kitchen table and the apartment was spotless. As soon as Blaine walked in, Kurt took note of his slumped shoulders and uneasy expression.

"Blaine, baby, look at me," Kurt said. As Blaine looked up, Kurt could see his eyes were wet. "Did you run into someone...someone like you, today?" Blaine slowly nodded. Kurt gathered him up in his arms and lead him over to the couch. "It'll be okay, baby, fuck them, right? What do they know"

A little chuckle escaped through the lump in Blaine's throat. "Yeah, that's right. Fuck 'em."

Kurt brought over the cheese and fruit plate, sat himself on the couch, then dragged the back of Blaine's shirt toward him until Blaine's back rested against his chest. As they sat cuddled together, Kurt fed him little pieces of cheese and fruit, and whispered sweet things in his ear.

"You are the gentlest, kindest man I have ever met," Kurt said quietly, feeding Blaine a strawberry. "You are so talented, and your music inspires me to be a better artist." Kurt gently nudged a piece of melon past Blaine's lips, and Blaine made an appreciative little sighing sound. "There is nothing more natural or right than you and me together, baby. You deserve to be loved in a way that feels right to you." He planted a few light kisses on the side of Blaine's neck. They ate silently for a few moments, and had sips of wine, not moving from their spot on the couch.

Blaine closed his eyes, a few tears making their way down his cheeks. His voice was hoarse. "Kurt, I love you so much."

"I love you too, baby," Kurt whispered as he kissed away the tears.