Kurt had a fitful sleep that night, tossing and turning restlessly with his thoughts, the image of a certain pair of honey tea eyes making their way into his dreams.

In his dream, he was onstage, sitting at a small, round bistro table across from Blaine, who was engrossed in a crossword puzzle, frowning at the nondescript newspaper held in his left hand and tapping his pencil rhythmically on the table with his right. Kurt noticed that all the spaces on the puzzle were blank, although several looked like letters had been written in them only to be vigorously erased.

"Three letter word for a falsehood?" Blaine asked, looking up.

Kurt frowned at him. Well, wasn't the answer obvious? But movement distracted him.

Standing around them on the stage was the entire McKinley student body, faces he recognized and faces he'd never seen before—jocks, cheerleaders, nerds, performers, basket cases, delinquents, overachievers, somebodies, nobodies—all of them watching him and Blaine with rapt attention. And despite their differences in stance and build, how they looked and how they dressed, they all wore the same expression. It unnerved Kurt, leaving him all too aware of the heat of the stage lights and the stagnant air weighing on his body.

Why were they all staring like that, eyes probing, mouths frowning, brows furrowed together, as if he were some particularly strange and perplexing object they'd found on the bottom of their shoe? And although they weren't regarding Blaine as critically as Kurt, they would glance in Blaine's direction occasionally.

The boy was still looking at Kurt, waiting for an answer to his question, seemingly unaware of the eyes pressing in on them.

Kurt flicked his gaze over the intruding faces, wondering why they were so interested and intent on watching him. He wasn't doing anything especially interesting, nor was he acting weird. He was only sitting there, confused and self-conscious. He didn't even have anything on the table before him, just his clasped hands. He turned his attention back to Blaine, whose expectant look had become anxious and almost sad.

This boy didn't make sense. He was perfect, absolutely perfect. He was attractive, polite, intelligent, charming, and evidently talented. Why was he hiding? What was he hiding? Because Kurt knew now that Blaine was hiding something. He had to be. No one that perfect could look that sad if there wasn't something he was hiding.

"Lie," Kurt heard himself answer, his voice coming out harsher than he expected. "Lie."

It was the only answer. But why?

Blaine's face seemed to crumple for a second before smoothing into his usual expression, his lips stretched in a winning smile.

His eyes, though. They only paled, not losing an ounce of the sadness and anxiety that Kurt had glimpsed. Blaine nodded at him in acceptance and then moved his hand to scribble the answer across the puzzle squares.

But Kurt grabbed the thing away from Blaine and ripped it apart, shreds of paper falling to the ground around them as dozens of throats gasped in unison.

What was he doing?

What had he done?

Oh god, what was he going to do next?

But Blaine just smirked at him, meeting his eyes, understanding. Seeing.

Before Kurt could say anything, however, his alarm screeched loudly, jarring him awake and away from those shining amber eyes.

Standing at his locker later that morning, Kurt tried to decipher the meaning of the dream. Was there some sort of truth he was supposed to glean from the strange scene his brain had painted for him? He supposed that that was how dreams worked, showing you things that your conscious mind had yet to realize. So maybe there was something important his subconscious was trying to tell him? But he could no longer remember much of the dream past the looks his schoolmates had given him as they surrounded him and Blaine, judging with every breath. Where had they been, anyway? On a stage? At a restaurant? Kurt was fairly certain he had been at least sitting at a cafe table, with Blaine starting to write something on a paper. Three letters…

"Hey!"

The greeting nearly had Kurt jumping out of his skin. He glared at his best friend, who merely skipped over and leaned her shoulder casually against the row of lockers beside his, completely at ease and unfazed by his glower.

"Psychology," Tess said, picking at her nails.

Kurt's fixed stare turned confused. "Huh?" he asked ineloquently. Did she know he was trying to garner an explanation from his subconscious? Was she psychic? Maybe he could utilize her powers.

"Your first class on Mondays," she elaborated, glancing up at him. "AP Psych. You've been frowning into your locker for the past five minutes; I thought maybe you had forgotten which books you needed." She reached over and grabbed his psychology textbook, handing it to him. "Here ya go."

"Oh," Kurt replied, feeling stupid. "Sorry, my mind was somewhere else entirely."

"Whereabouts?" Tess asked, looking curious. "Someplace with a nice view, I hope?"

Kurt laughed, barely containing a blush. He remembered hazel eyes and a crooked smirk. If only she knew.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to tell her that he'd had a dream involving Blaine, though—he was positive he'd never hear the end of it. He decided to keep his response as vague as possible.

"I had a weird dream last night. A bunch of random students from here were in it, just surrounding me and staring at me but not actually saying anything," he said with the most casual of shrugs (he hoped). "I don't really remember what happened in the dream exactly, but that much I do recall. I guess I spaced trying to figure out the rest of it when you showed up."

Tess raised an eyebrow at him and then made a point of looking around the hallway. Quite a few people who passed them frowned momentarily at Kurt, who had moved on to touching up his hair and fixing his collar as it was reflected in the mirror he'd tacked to the inside of his locker door, his messenger bag finally filled with his necessary books and papers, hanging heavy on his shoulder. The stares kept coming, although no words were spoken.

"Um, are you sure that was a dream, hon?" Tess questioned, returning one person's particularly lingering stare threateningly. The kid wisely skittered away. "Geez, it's like they've never seen a guy before."

"A gay," Kurt corrected. "They've never seen a gay before." He glanced around for a moment then went straight back to checking his appearance. "Not worth my time," he said.

And they really weren't. He'd been getting looks like that for almost half his life; he learned not to be bothered by them a long time ago. No, what he couldn't stop thinking about was how Blaine had been in his dream. Guarded and sad, and accepted.

"Hi, Kurt," came a chipper voice to Kurt's right, somewhere on the other side of his locker door.

Speak of the devil, Kurt thought.

He snapped his locker shut and was met with the ever-smiling face of Blaine Anderson, who seemed to have just closed his own locker and was walking towards Kurt and Tess as if he'd only just seen them there and trotting over to them was the most natural thing in the world, instead of something he'd never done before in his life.

Kurt took in Blaine's outfit as he walked—a maroon shawl-neck polo, dark wash jeans and taupe suede brogues, sans socks—more than a little impressed with the other boy's wardrobe choice and admittedly curious about where he'd even found a shawl-neck anythingthat wasn't some kind of sweater with a thick cable knit and one-too-many toggle buttons. And Kurt hated to admit it, as he'd pretty much reprimanded Tess for saying it the other day, but with the way Blaine dressed himself, he just had to be gay. Probably. Almost definitely. Maybe.

"H-hi, um, Blaine," Kurt stuttered, not having expected Blaine to actually speak to him at school. "What's up?"

What's up? What's up? Ugh.

"I never thanked you for the company on Saturday," Blaine said brightly, seeming not to notice Kurt's nervous confusion at the situation.

There was a sharp intake of breath from Tess, and Kurt could feel her questioning stare pressing against the side of his head, easily hearing what she must now be thinking: "'I never thanked you for the company on Saturday'? As in, the Saturday that we were supposed to spend all of together? The Saturday that you blew me off so you could do homework? Was Blaine your 'homework,' Kurt? Oh please god, tell me you did your homework!"

Oh goodie, he couldn't wait for that conversation.

"Oh, uh, you're welcome," Kurt replied, trying to ignore the thoughts Tess was sending him telepathically. "It was nothing, really."

"All the same, thanks. It would've been really boring just sitting in my car by myself for half an hour," Blaine said, toying with the strap of his bag. His new Tony Perotti leather messenger bag, the bastard. Kurt eyed it longingly. Blaine's gaze never left the other boy's face. "Anyway, I'll see you later," he continued after a moment, starting to back away. "Rehearsal after school today! Oh, and I think a date has tentatively been chosen for that barbecue we talked about. This Saturday is what I hear. Can't wait to try your crab legs, grill master!"

With a flash of his smirk, Blaine turned around and strutted off down the hall. "Bye," Kurt managed quietly to the boy's retreating form, trying his best not to notice just how well those jeans fit over Blaine's legs and backside.

Tess was on him in a second. "Explain."

And now he was in trouble.

He hadn't intended on saying anything to Tess about Blaine being at his house on Saturday. In fact, he'd actually had the full intention of never saying anything about this at all to anyone ever. Mostly because there was no reason to, since the whole thing was a fluke, really. But just his luck, Blaine had to go and ruin that plan by seeking Kurt out and bringing stuff up in front of Tess. Kurt hadn't seen Blaine in the hallway; he could've just left without so much as a holler in his general direction, and Kurt wouldn't have been the wiser. But no, he had to walk on over and chitchat. Insufferable boy. Well, at least he hadn't brought up how Kurt accidentally let slip that he thought Blaine was adorable. Thank the supposed God for the little things.

"Hey, I'm waiting!" Tess poked Kurt repeatedly on the shoulder. Apparently, he was taking too long to answer. "I demand an explanation right now, mister!" More poking. "You hung out with Cary Grant's illegitimate Eurasian love child this weekend and you didn't even think to text me about it? The hell! Do I mean nothing to you?"

Kurt shoved her prodding fingers away from his person, starting to walk down the hall towards his designated classroom, more in an attempt to escape Tess and her incessant questions than to get to class on time.

"Keep your voice down, woman! And stop poking me! Anyway, there's nothing to explain," he replied, trying to sound nonchalant with that last statement. "Blaine came over to meet up with Finn for, you know, glee club business, but Finn was late. I kept the kid company while he waited. That's it. The end."

Tess raised an eyebrow at that. "Fascinating," she said flatly, though somehow still threateningly. Kurt marveled at her ability to do that. "Don't you give me the thing in a nutshell, Hummel; I want details. What did you guys do? And don't jip me, skank."

"Nothing, honestly!" Kurt maintained. "We just talked a bit."

He tried to think of something innocuous to tell her from Saturday. He would not tell her about the possibly-but-probably-not-at-all-flirtatious comments Blaine made to him. Nor would he mention the indecipherable look Blaine gave him once his dad left. Nor would he bring up how he had been rendered momentarily dumb by Blaine's stupidly gorgeous face.

Eventually, he went with: "Blaine likes juice."

Tess blinked at him. "Please tell me you mean 'juice' as a metaphor for something else that's much more interesting than actual juice," Tess said in a pleading tone that Kurt didn't quite understand the need for. He frowned at her.

"No, I mean 'juice' as in juice," Kurt replied. "Blaine's favorite is apple."

"Christ, you fucking would," Tess exclaimed, sounding frustrated and looking toward the ceiling as if praying to the Powers That Be for a laundry list of virtues that might help her deal with the situation she found herself in.

"What—" Kurt started but was immediately cut off.

"You little shit, you had Blaine Anderson at your house!" Tess's raised voice drew some surprised and curious stares. Kurt desperately pulled her farther down the hallway by her elbow, as people had begun whispering while she continued to rattle on. "Blaine. Anderson," she reiterated. "You know the one? Handsome, compact, polite as fuck? You had him! All to yourself! For thirty minutes! In your house! The guy that no one seems to know anything about—you had him. And the most interesting piece of information you were able to gather from the encounter was that he likes juice? Are you kidding me? Seriously, if Blaine hadn't mentioned the run-in himself, I'd have thought you were making the whole thing up just to appease me for being concerned about your love life."

"Oh, would you quit it with the love-life crap!" Kurt exclaimed louder than he meant to. He stopped them and pulled Tess over to a corner by the lockers just outside his psychology classroom so he could look her in the eye while he spoke.

"This is exactly why I didn't tell you about Blaine, Tess. Because now that's all you're going to want to talk about, even though you promised me that you would drop this whole issue. No boy talk until New York, remember? Remember that?"

"Yeah, well, that was before I knew that Blaine was interested in you, you doofus!" his best friend retorted with a backhand to his chest, chin held high in what looked like anticipation of victory.

"What?" Kurt said dumbly, shocked and confused. He hadn't expected her to say anything like that and was, admittedly, a little hurt that she would take that tactic with him. Tess knew how desperate he was for someone to reciprocate even the slightest bit of romantic interest, but he never in a million years thought she would use that weakness against him. "Why would you say that, Tess?" The hurt showed on his face.

Tess just gave him an incredulous look, her mouth gaping. "Are you serious?" she asked. "Were you not there a minute ago? Are you completely blind? Do we need to get your head checked? 'Cause my mom knows a guy—"

"—Could you please just stop? You've hurt my feelings enough, thank you very m—"

"—He likes you, dumbass!" Tess grabbed Kurt's shoulders when he moved, effectively preventing him from escaping into the classroom, which was now receiving a steady flow of students through its entrance. "He was making dopey heart-eyes at you from the time he sauntered over, all 'Oh my gracious, thank you ever so much for your comp'ny, Mr. Hummel,' until the moment he walked away, swaying his hips far too much for someone who wasn't wearing heels, I'm sure just to draw your attention to his fine, fine ass…"

It was Kurt's turn to gape. "He did not!" he insisted, a blush rising high in his cheeks. He hated his friend so much in that moment. Not only was Tess making fun of him, but now she was making fun Blaine as well. He would not stand for it.

He was about to say something more, something sharp, give her a piece of his mind, but the warning bell for the start of classes rang out loudly and suddenly right above their heads, startling the both of them.

Fuming and frustrated and ruined for his comeback, Kurt settled for glaring at his friend instead. "I am not doing this with you," he said, his tone clipped. He turned away from her without further comment and walked into his class, ignoring her shouts after him. He took an open seat by the window, hoping to clear his head.

Fat chance.

One thing was for sure: with Tess as his assistant stage manager and Blaine as the musical's lead, Kurt would not be having a clear head for a while.