CHAPTER 2

Kurt's summer was spent cramming in as many hours as he could at Vogue.com in between the full load of classes he was taking.  Most students at NYADA didn't take summer school, instead either working to try to defray the steep tuition or trying desperately to find summer stock work, or anything else that could pad their resume.  Since Kurt had missed the fall semester, having not been accepted until the Winter Showcase, he was a semester behind most of his classmates.  Most didn't see it as a big deal, since many took only the minimum classes required to maintain enrollment in case they got a part, or dropped out entirely once they began getting parts.  As a matter of fact, NYADA had an absolutely horrible graduation rate for that reason, a fact that only made it more attractive to many students who saw it as proof that if you went to school there, you could make it on Broadway.  However, it was a big deal to his father, who had only gone to junior college, and hadn't finished after he lost his athletic scholarship following an injury, that Kurt finish school.  He knew he would never drop out, because it meant so much to his dad that he finish.  And since he wanted to get out and start his career as soon as possible, he wanted to catch up to his class.  The summer classes were a big step in that direction.  By fall, he'd be caught up in the arts classes, and only two academic classes behind.  And as he no longer had a personal life to speak of, work and school provided a welcome distraction.

Rachel's treatment of him eventually thawed from the Arctic freeze she had been directing his way to being merely cool towards him.  Strangely enough, Santana was the mediator between the two of them.  As Rachel's pregnancy progressed, she eventually began to treat him as a friend again.  Although Kurt suspected she wanted something from him, he decided to be oblivious to the fact and simply welcome the fact that he was on generally good terms with both of his roommates.

He and Adam eventually settled back into their previous routine, going out occasionally.  Between work and school for Kurt and working as a waiter and bit parts in off-off-Broadway productions for Adam, neither of them had much time.  When they did manage to get together, Kurt tried to avoid physical contact and Adam hoped for more, but didn't push.  The last time he got more, it had nearly destroyed everything, although he still wasn't sure why; Kurt never talked to him about it, so he was unsure why Kurt had allowed, no demanded, more, nor what had gone wrong.  It was an odd dance, but one both participants willingly continued.

* * *

Blaine spent the summer preparing to move to New York.  He got his housing packet, which contained information about dorms and meal plans.  It would be an adjustment.  At home he'd always had his own room, and at Dalton he had lived in a private room.  Now he would have a roommate for the first time in his life, and it would be someone he had never met before they moved in together.  He carefully filled out all the information so the school could make the best match they could.  He wondered briefly whether he should mention that he was gay, so the school could make certain that they didn't place him with someone who was homophobic, but finally decided it would only complicate matters, since he doubted anyone would willingly list that they hated gay people on their housing form.  He emphasized his love of music and theater, and his plan to be a serious student, and then mailed the form off and hoped for the best.

He spent time deciding what to take to New York and what to leave.  He thought carefully about what he would need every day for classes, as well as for both formal and informal performances, and wondered how he would fit everything he needed into half of a dorm room.  He needed his guitar, violin, cello, mandolin, and harmonica; although it broke his heart, he knew he would have to leave behind his grand piano and drum kit.  Longingly he looked at his electric piano, but finally decided it would be left behind too, with all practice being relegated to the music department's pianos when he could reserve them.  He would bring it up for the spring semester if he thought he could fit it in the room.  He looked for things that would make the room more homelike, but most of the pictures and things he thought of bringing reminded him of Kurt.  Eventually, he settled on just pictures of himself with his parents and Cooper, and an old quilt that had belonged to his great-grandmother.  Text books and school supplies he would buy in New York, along with dorm bedding.  Other than his instruments, everything he was taking fit into two large suitcases and his messenger bag.

Finally the day arrived.  He and his parents flew to New York, and they helped him move his belongings into the dorm.  He was grateful for the help, since moving both the suitcases and the instruments by himself would have been a logistical nightmare.  Upon arriving, he met his roommate for the first time. 

The tall, blonde young man introduced himself, “Hi, I'm Brendan,” in a pronounced southern accent.

“Blaine,” Blaine told him.  The two continued to exchange pleasantries as Blaine's parents helped him move his things into his half of the room, with Brendan even helping a bit.  Blaine was pleasantly surprised at how well this was seeming to go. 

Once his things were all in, Blaine and his parents walked around campus for a bit, enjoying the feeling of the quiet academic oasis in the middle of New York City, and then went to dinner before he headed back to his room and his parents to their hotel.  They had originally planned to have breakfast together the next day, but a business matter had arisen and his father had to fly to a client's Los Angeles office early the next day, and his mother was accompanying him so she could see Cooper.  It was nothing Blaine wasn't used to.

Once he returned to his dorm, he started putting his things away.  Brendan came in a short while later, presumably from dinner.  “So, now that the parents are gone, let's really talk,” he said.  Blaine became a little nervous.  “Do you have a girlfriend, and if so, is she here?”

“Um, no.  I don't have a girlfriend,” Blaine answered.  He wondered if he should tell his roommate he was gay, or wait until they knew each other better.

“Are you interested in having one?”  The other boy continued his interrogation.

“Right now, I'm pretty focused on school,” he said, still not sure how his roommate would react to the fact that he was gay.

Brendan laughed.  “You know, your parents aren't here,” he said, then at Blaine's puzzled look he said, “Oh my God, you're serious.  Wow.  Um, I don't really know what to say to that.”

“The information the school sent me about you said you were pretty focused on academics too, and that you liked music,” Blaine told him, a little confused.

“Right.  Everyone says they're focused on academics and plan to study all the time on their forms, because our parents might look at them.  Yes, I'm an engineering major, because my parents want me to be and I'm really good at math, so the more math focused my degree, the less I have to work.  My parents told me to put the music thing because I sang in church, which I did in part because they wanted me to, and in part because the preacher's daughter was in the choir too and she was really hot.  This is the first time I've been out from under their thumb, and I plan on getting all the ass I can.  How about you?”  Brendan said.

Blaine's first thought was that Brendan was pretty good looking, and that he'd probably be pretty successful in achieving his goal, provided he wasn't honest about what it was.  His second was that he might have a duty to warn the freshman co-eds.  His third was that this might not be the ideal roommate match he'd thought when he had initially gotten Brendan's information.  Finally, he got around to thinking about how to answer Brendan's question.  “I was in a relationship, and it was pretty serious.  I thought we were soul mates.  But he was a year older than I was,” Blaine began, then inwardly winced when he realized he'd said the word he to describe Kurt; oh well, at least now it was out in the open.  He continued, “And when he moved away last year, he didn't have as much time for me.  I thought he'd moved on and I did something really stupid, and when I told him we broke up.  I kept trying to get us back together, but it didn't really work.  Finally, I proposed, and he turned me down.  The next time I saw him he clearly had moved on, and made sure I knew just how far.  So now, I really don't want to be in a relationship with anyone.  I really do just want to focus on school and music, and since I'm double majoring in music performance and finance, with a minor in drama, and considering a minor in English, I don't think I've have time for much of a personal life, which is just as well, since I can't seem to get it right.”

“Sorry about what happened, man.  So, you're gay?”  Brendan said.

“Yes.  Is that a problem for you?”  Blaine responded.

“No.  It might be for my parents, but what they don't know won't hurt them.  You're just the first gay person I've ever met.”  Brendan told him.

“I'm probably not.  Some people estimate that as many as one in ten people are gay,” Blaine said.

“Hmm.  Well, I don't know about that, but you're the first person I've ever met that admitted it.  It doesn't bother me, really, as long as you respect the fact that I'm straight,” Brendan said.

“Well,” Blaine said with relief, “it looks like we won't have any problems.”

“Yeah.  And I don't have to worry about my roomie stealing my girlfriends!”  Brendan said.  Blaine cringed a little at the use of the plural.  He hoped Brendan planned on having only one at a time.  He was snapped back to the conversation by Brendan's explanation of how he would signal Blaine that he had a girl in the room and he should stay out.  Then he generously told Blaine that should he change his mind and decide to try his hand at a relationship again, he could use the same system.

Classes began a few days later, and Blaine dove into them.  He was taking the maximum number of hours permitted by the university, so he was buried in work.  Unlike NYADA, at Columbia, academics were taken extremely seriously, and the rigor reminded him of his days at Dalton.  However, returning to his dorm, planning a night of pizza delivery, practice and study, only to find a tie on the door again always snapped him back to reality.  This was definitely not Dalton.  He found himself wondering Thursday night as he fell asleep in the dorm's student lounge for the third time in the first week of school just how Brendan was keeping up with his classes, given his devoted pursuit of his extracurricular activities. 

The next morning he was awoken by the ringing of his phone, the screen telling him it was almost dead since he had been unable to charge it.  Trying to stretch the stiffness from his back and neck, he answered, “Hey, Santana.  What's up?”

“Well, I don't have to be at work until three, I don't have any classes today, and I'm broke.  Want to buy me some coffee?”  She said.  She sounded way too cheerful, but Blaine realized that might just be his bad mood, brought on by sleeping half sitting on a couch that had definitely seen better days.  Looking at the phone, he realized he had time, since his Friday morning lab didn't meet until the second week of school.

“Um, sure.  Let me get dressed.  I can meet you in forty-five minutes, okay?”  He answered.

“Make it thirty,” she chirped, reeling off an address before hanging up.

Blaine crept back to his room.  Damn.  The tie was still on the door.  Most of the time the girl (girls?  He wasn't sure if there was one or more than one) left before morning.  He let himself in anyway.  If Brendan was embarrassed it served him right.  He tried not to see Brendan and the red-headed girl he was entwined with, the comforter only partially covering them, as he made his way to the bathroom.  He took a quick shower and brushed his teeth, wondering what three nights of missing dental hygiene were doing to them, pulling on the clean clothes he'd gathered on the way to the bathroom.  Leaving, he saw that Brendan and his date (or was she a girlfriend?) hadn't moved.  He made his way out quietly, wondering how to broach the subject of wanting to sleep in his own room with his roommate.

He continued to ponder the subject on the way to the coffee shop Santana had named, brought out of his reverie only when he heard her exclaim, “Good God, Hobbit, you look like shit!”

“Thanks, Santana,” he replied dryly. 

“Come on, tell Auntie Tana all about it.  Is there a snake in your little academic garden of Eden?”  She pushed.

“Yeah.  His name is Brendan.”  Blaine answered as they moved to the front of the line.  They both ordered, and then Santana continued her interrogation.

“Ooh.  You have a new man?”

“No.  He's my roommate, and he's very straight,” Blaine told her.

“Has a problem with you being gay?”  She guessed.

“No, but he is determined to sleep with every woman between the ages of seventeen and seventy who sets foot on the Columbia campus, and he's well on his way.  I've fallen asleep in the lounge three times this week waiting for his dates to leave, and this last one was still there when you called.  Usually the tie is off the door by morning.”  Blaine said.

“Tie?”  She asked as they took their coffee.

“When he has a girl in there he hangs a tie on the doorknob.  He told his parents he was bringing them so he could dress nicely for church.”  He explained.  She snickered.

“Why don't you talk to him?”

“I've tried.  I barely see him, since we don't have any classes together and the only time he's in the room he's got a girl with him.  I don't know if he even goes to class, but I guess he does because I think that's where he finds the girls.  I've also talked to the RA.  He sympathized, but told me that there are no vacant dorm spaces, so the earliest I'll be able to move is next semester, and there's not really a good chance even then.  It'll probably be next year, assuming I don't flunk out given the fact that I can't get my instruments out of my room to practice half the time and I'm getting absolutely no decent sleep.”  He replied.

“Why don't you just move out?”  She asked.

“I can't.  Columbia University students are required to live on campus the first year.  Almost all of them live on campus at least four years, or until they finish their bachelor's degrees,” he sighed, starting to feel hopeless.

“Do they do room checks?”

“Obviously not.  I'm not sure if they're supposed to, but they either don't or don't care who sleeps where,” Blaine told her.

“Then why not crash at our place?  I mean, you'll have to deal with Berry being all hormonal, and you'll be on the floor next to my couch, but if you can deal with that, there's no reason you shouldn't be able to at least get a good night's sleep,” she offered.  He was surprised by the generosity.  He had heard about Rachel's pregnancy through the Glee grapevine; just because he didn't participate didn't mean he didn't listen, and the conditions of the offer were the same as last time, but there was one big issue.

Addressing the elephant in the room, he said, “I don't really think that's a good idea.  Remember what happened last time?”

“Yeah.  Neither Berry nor I know what that was about.  Kurt won't talk about it.  He'd been seeing Adam off and on, but it never seemed that serious.  Then when you were there, suddenly he sleeps with him, and then the next thing you know, they aren't seeing each other at all.  No fight, no argument, no breakup.  Just a casual relationship to sex to no relationship within about twenty four hours.  They've been going out again, but even less than last time, so it should be okay,” she told him.

“Thanks, Santana.  I'll consider it.  I really need to sleep if I'm going to do well in my classes.  I can usually study in the library, and practice in the music department, sometimes I can even borrow a guitar or violin or cello to practice those as well as piano and drums, but sleeping in the lounge is pretty bad,” he mused.

“Great.  There's a shop a block down that makes keys.  After we finish here I'll make you a copy, and you can just come and go as you want,” she said.  And so Blaine found himself taking the subway back to campus with a freshly minted apartment key in his pocket.

* * *

Two weeks later, Blaine was desperate for a single decent night's sleep.  He'd managed to corner Brendan to talk about the situation, but he wasn't budging.  As far as he was concerned, the room was on a first come, first served basis:  if you got there first, alone or not, you could sleep there or do whatever you wanted.  If, however, you were the second one to the party, you had rights to the room only if the first occupant didn't have company.  The RA continued to be sympathetic but unhelpful.  And since talking to Santana he'd managed to make it to the room first only two or three times; long hours of practice in the music department worked against him in his attempts, meaning he often arrived at the dorm late, only to find the tie on the door.  It was Thursday, Brendan was “busy” in their room again, his lab was meeting in the morning, and he was too tired to prepare for it; he'd have to get up early to do it, but that assumed he could sleep to begin with.  His desires not to impose and to avoid Kurt were officially overwhelmed by exhaustion; he turned on his heel and left the dorm, grabbing the subway to get close to the apartment.

He was greeted by understanding looks from both Santana and a very pregnant Rachel, who had clearly been filled in on the situation.  “Hey, you can sleep with me if you want.  The bed's big enough, at least I think it still is,” Rachel offered, looking ruefully at her belly, “and you can change in the bathroom.”

“Um, really, I can't,” Blaine told her, blushing.  “I wasn't able to get clothes.  I'm hoping to get back to the dorm early enough to get changed in the morning.  Otherwise, I'll be going to class in the same thing I'm wearing now.”

“I think I have some things you can borrow,” she said, disappearing into her bedroom.  She returned with a pair of sweat pants and a tee shirt.  He didn't really want to ask whose, he just hoped they were clean.

“Thanks,” he told her.  He took them to the bathroom.  As he began to put them on, the scents of detergent and fabric softener told him they were indeed clean, and the fact that the legs of the pants went far beyond the ends of his feet and he had to tie the drawstring just to keep them around his waist told him they were Finn's.  Thank God, he thought with relief as he rolled up the legs so he could walk without tripping.  He brushed his teeth with the toothbrush and toothpaste he bought at a drugstore he had passed on the walk from the subway station. 

He entered Rachel's bedroom to find her dressed for bed.  It wasn't really all that late, but she said the pregnancy made her tired, and he was exhausted from too many nights spent on the couch in the lounge.  They settled into the bed back to back and he was already beginning to drop off when he heard Rachel ask him to get her a glass of water. 

He got up to do the favor, only half processing her explanation of why it was important to stay hydrated during pregnancy, which was how he found himself standing in the kitchen when Kurt came in with Adam.  Kurt's eyes narrowed and he didn't say anything but half dragged Adam to his room.  Blaine met Santana's eyes.  She shrugged.  Blaine decided Kurt's life was his own and Blaine was too tired to care what he did with it.  He returned to Rachel's room, handed her the water, got back into bed, and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

In the morning, he was up early, heading home to shower and change before preparing for his lab.  He barely remembered the events of the previous evening, and could just about write it off to an exhaustion fueled flashback.

Soon a routine was established.  Blaine slept badly in his dorm's student lounge more often than not, only managing a night or two each week, maybe three if he was really lucky, in his own bed.  Once every week or two, he would get desperate enough to use his key to the apartment, where he now kept a toothbrush, a razor, a pair of pajamas and a change of clothes.  On those occasions, if Kurt came in alone, he went to his room and stayed there.  If he was with Adam, he drug Adam in with him.  It felt like a blow to Blaine's heart every time it happened, but exhaustion and the knowledge that if he had had faith, had been faithful, they would still be together, kept Blaine from saying anything.  He tried to tell himself each time that it didn't matter; what Kurt did or didn't do didn't affect him, but the truth was that it did.

* * *

Adam wasn't stupid.  It didn't take him long to figure out that Kurt was a good friend, but that's really as far as Kurt wanted to take things.  He knew Kurt spent a lot of each evening they spent together with his mind only half on the activity at hand, the rest of his focus on how to avoid kissing Adam or engaging in physical contact while trying to make Adam think he wasn't pushing him away.  He was also quick to figure out who Blaine was, and make the connection that on the nights when he and Kurt arrived at the apartment to find Blaine there, Kurt would insist on sex.  As much as Adam tried to convince himself they were making love, he knew it was just sex.  He knew it wouldn't have happened if Blaine wasn't there.  He wasn't sure if Kurt was trying to hurt Blaine, or prove to Blaine that he was over him, or prove it to himself.  But he knew, deep down inside, that the truth was that Kurt wasn't over Blaine, and even he could see it.  He supposed if he had any self-respect, any dignity, he would simply walk away.  But he was in love with Kurt, even if Kurt wasn't in love with him.  And he kept hoping that eventually, if he could keep it going long enough, he could make it true:  Kurt would be over Blaine, and he would fall in love with Adam, the way Adam had fallen in love with him.

* * *

Kurt knew what he was doing wasn't right.  He knew he was hurting Blaine, kept hurting him far beyond what was reasonable; it was far past anything he could rationalize.  Although he hated to admit it, he was hurting Adam, too.  He couldn't see a future for himself that had Adam in it.  Nothing beyond friendship with him felt right, and every time they went beyond that he felt indescribably dirty for days afterward.  And yet, he couldn't seem to stop himself.  He couldn't bring himself to break it off with Adam, or to admit to him that all he really wanted was to just be friends; he was afraid he'd ruined that, anyway, and that it was no longer a possibility.  He knew he was letting his father down, using someone the way his father was afraid he would be used, each time as well.  And most of all, he knew, deep inside, that he was hurting, maybe even punishing, himself.

* * *

In early November, the call came from Santana.  Rachel was in labor.  She and Blaine had never discussed it, but Santana told him she wanted Blaine to be there, at least in the hospital if not in the room.  They had truly become friends over the last few months, with no jealousy or competition to get in the way.  And so Blaine sent off a quick e-mail to his professors, explaining that a good friend was having a baby and needed him to be with her (and that no, he was in no way related to the child about to arrive), and went to the hospital.  After being directed to labor and delivery, he was given the number of a birthing room; it was there, outside Rachel's room, that he ran into Kurt.  It was an uncomfortable encounter for them both.  They glanced away from each other's eyes and muttered apologies and excuses before Blaine went in to see Rachel and Kurt continued on his original mission, calling Finn to let him know that Rachel was in labor.  Shortly after Blaine arrived, Rachel demanded an epidural.  Once it was administered, she drifted off to sleep, waking only when a staff member came in to check on her.  Blaine and Kurt passed the time ignoring each other while having separate conversations with Santana, each occasionally making snide comments directed at the other as if they weren't both in the room.  Once the midwife announced that Rachel was ready to deliver, the tension rose; neither man was ready for this, and the stress combined with the forced proximity became overwhelming.  Santana ordered them both out of the room for the delivery, deciding that, as she put it, “One baby is enough to deal with.”  A short time later, both men found themselves staring into a tiny red face, being told that his name was Stephen, in honor of Stephen Sondheim.  Animosity temporarily forgotten, they agreed that he was beautiful.

* * *

With the excitement of the birth, a bit earlier than expected, Blaine forgot to tell them his news.  A few days earlier, he had been approached by a girl, a pretty upperclassman with a cast on her arm.  She was also a music major, and Blaine's reputation for talent and versatility had spread quickly.  In addition to being a student, she was the keyboardist for a band, primarily comprised of other music students.  Unfortunately, while riding her bike to class one recent morning, she had hit a patch of ice during the early freeze that had hit New York the previous week, breaking her arm in the resulting wipeout.  The band had regular gigs booked and needed to replace her on keyboard immediately, but the replacement had to be someone who had a broad musical repertoire and was a quick study.  The grapevine had told them that Blaine was a likely candidate.  After an audition and an interview with the other members, he was invited to join the band until the regular keyboardist was cleared to return.  Although difficult to manage with his class load, the job had a lot of perks:  a little extra pocket money, professional experience to put on his resume, exposure to the New York music scene as a professional rather than just a fan, a chance to sing and play for an audience, and, best of all, an open invitation to crash on the floor of the dorm room shared by the lead guitarist and bassist, both of whom had experienced roommates similar to Brendan and both of whom were focused on graduating before running out of money.  Therefore, it seemed to Rachel, Kurt and Santana that Blaine disappeared without explanation after Stephen was born.

The reality was that he didn't mean to disappear or to cut them out.  It was just that with the new job he was even busier than he had been before, and the other dorm was right next to his, on campus, and much more convenient.  He more or less just moved in with Rob and Mike, the band members who had invited him to use their floor.  As a result, he was getting a lot more sleep, was much less stressed, and could access his things whenever he needed to.  The arrangement had the added bonus of being able to discuss set lists, potential numbers, gigs, and other band related matters with the other members at any time.  For the first time since moving to New York, he was truly enjoying himself.

He was almost surprised when Rachel called him to have coffee a few weeks later, but he jumped at the chance.  He breezed into the coffee shop that afternoon, giving Rachel and Santana hugs and cooing over Stephen.  As they gave their order, he turned to Rachel.  “Decaf, right?”

“Eew, no,” she replied.  At his raised eyebrows she explained, “I'm not nursing.  I'm not about to let him destroy my body any more than he already has, and given the fact that he's up at all hours, I need all the caffeine I can get.”  Blaine kept his thoughts about this to himself, but it suddenly registered that Santana, not Rachel, was pushing the stroller, and Santana seemed more focused on the baby than his mother did. 

Once they were at the table, Rachel said, “So, tell us everything that's happening outside the world of baby spit-up.”  Blaine filled them in about the band, and told them about their upcoming gigs, eliciting excited squeals and promises to come see him.

In turn, they told about what was going on in their lives.  Santana was still a go-go dancer of sorts at a lesbian club, and officially a waitress at one of the nicer gay bars, although she was the de facto manager, subbing in for the actual manager who had a substance abuse problem, since no one else was willing to do so.  Her ability and willingness to run a successful high-end gay bar didn't surprise Blaine, and he'd long ago gotten over the fact that she had jobs in two establishments that she was too young to legally enter.  She was also starting to take community college classes, thinking about applying to a four-year university; when asked if her focus would be voice, dance, or theatre, she smiled and replied, “Management.”

Rachel told him she was cleared to resume classes the next week, and was giving private voice and acting lessons to a local high school girl with her sights set on NYADA in exchange for babysitting.  She was also trading academic tutoring for babysitting with some NYADA students.  Between those two things and relying on Kurt and Santana, she would be able to resume her full class load and make up for the time she had missed before next semester's classes began, so she wouldn't have to repeat a semester.  Against doctor's orders, she had also resumed rehearsals as the understudy for Fanny Brice in Funny Girl.  Blaine thought Stephen was spending more time with babysitters than with his mother, but he thought it best to say nothing on the point. 

Rachel also filled him in about the DNA testing that had been done in the hospital.  The results were due back next week.  Finn had submitted a sample for comparison, and assuming the results were what Rachel thought they would be, she and Finn would be getting married at the beginning of the winter break.  Finn had tentatively applied to a few colleges in New York, and was hoping to begin classes there in January.  They would continue to live with Kurt and Santana until they could afford a place of their own.

Attempting to be polite, Blaine asked, “How's Kurt doing?”

“Okay,” Santana replied as she picked up Stephen, who had started to fuss.  “He's busy.  He's taking a full class load, still working pretty insane hours at Vogue.com, and he's picking up a few shifts as a waiter at the bar where I work, and some at a restaurant near NYADA.”  At Blaine's raised eyebrows, she continued, “I think he's trying to take some of the load off his parents.  I mean, Finn works at the shop right now when he's not taking classes, and I think Kurt feels a little guilty about not contributing to the shop and his dad paying for his school, even though it's a lot more feasible now that he's in Congress too.”

Rachel cut in, saying, “He still hangs out with Adam sometimes, but not as much.  I'm pretty sure they're just friends.”

“Last time I saw them, I wouldn't call what they were doing ‘hanging out,'” Blaine said cuttingly, “And I'm pretty sure they're more than just friends.”

“The funny thing about that, though,” Santana said, “is that he never acts like that with Adam except around you.  The rest of the time there's less PDA, hell, less friendship, than between you and Sam.”

“You do know that I briefly had a small crush on Sam, right?”

“Yeah,” Rachel answered, “But you never acted on it, right?  It was all one-sided, as I understand it.”

“Yeah, it was.  I knew he was straight, so even though I was attracted to him, I knew nothing would ever happen.  He even figured it out, and we were best friends by that time.  We talked about it.  He really didn't have a problem with it as long as I respected his boundaries.  Even after he knew, and we discussed  it, he was still fine with the same kind of physical contact we'd always had, well once we became friends after he moved back:  hugging when one of us needed it or we were excited or celebrating, dancing together in numbers, that kind of thing,” Blaine told her.

Rachel began to explain, “Exactly.  The only time they touch is when you're around.  The rest of the time, you can tell that Adam wants to, you can see it in his eyes, but Kurt isn't interested and Adam won't push him.  When you're around, though, not only are there excessive PDA's and more, Kurt initiates them.  It's weird.”

Blaine couldn't help himself.  “What on earth is he doing?”

“I have no idea.  It's like he's a different person,” Rachel replied.

“Oh, I have an idea,” Santana said with a mysterious look.

“Care to explain?” Blaine inquired.

“No.  Not unless I find out I'm right.  Maybe not even then.”