“OH MY GOD,” Kurt yelled from his small office at BCA Records. “OHHHHHHH MY GOD. FRANKIE GET IN HERE!”

Frankie rushed into Kurt's office, twisting her auburn hair into a loose bun. “This is a place of business, Kurt, please keep your screeches to a dull roar.”

“Blaine Anderson is coming. Here. To Nashville. To the Cannery Ballroom. He's coming here. In June.” Kurt's eyes were scanning through an email as he hunched over his laptop screen.

Blaine Anderson was Kurt's favorite artist, favorite anything. Kurt first saw Blaine two years ago in New York at a New Artist Showcase for Capitol Records. Kurt was in town doing press with one of his artists and his boyfriend at the time had invited him to the showcase. Kurt was captivated the moment Blaine walked on stage all dark eyes and dark hair and just enough confidence to command the room without being an asshole. Oh, and it didn't hurt that he oozed sex. Kurt felt like he was cheating on The Boyfriend just from the thoughts running through his head.

“Can you believe it, he's gay,” The Boyfriend had whispered. Kurt felt lightheaded. He'd been a fan ever since.

Frankie leaned over his shoulder to read the email. “Why is he coming to the Cannery? Seems like a small venue for someone like him.”

“It doesn't matter, we are going. Tickets go on sale tomorrow,” Kurt said, his voice a pitch higher than normal (which was saying a lot), “and there's…oh god, there's a VIP option where you can MEET him.”

“How much are VIP tickets?”

Kurt whipped around in his desk chair and glared at her. “Obviously that doesn't matter. It's Blaine, Frankie. BLAINE.”

“Of course it doesn't matter and of course we're going, but I'm broke! And it's fucking GA, Kurt. You know I hate GA shows.”

Kurt crossed his arms and glared at her. “Say the thing.”

“Please don't make me.”

“Say. It.”

Frankie lifted her right hand in the air and rolled her eyes, chanting, “Kurt Hummel is Blaine Anderson's most dedicated and loyal fan. Anyone who disputes this is an uninformed baffoon. And I, as Kurt Hummel's very best friend, vow to support him in whatever way necessary when it comes to Blaine Anderson.”

“That's better,” Kurt huffed, turning back around to scroll through the email a fourth time. “I hope we can even get tickets, you know what a bitch Ticketmaster can be.”

“I'll text Bellie and June,” Frankie said, fishing her phone out of her back pocket.

Bellie (Annabelle to her professional contacts, Bellie to her friends) worked at a small indie booking agent on music row. Kurt had met her when she'd signed one of his very first artists and they'd been friends ever since. June, a former employee of BCA Records, left three years ago to start her own video production business, but stayed close friends with Kurt, Frankie and Bellie. The four of them were inseparable. 

“Bellie says ‘hot' and June says she can't wait to see you spontaneously combust in the middle of a bunch of hyperventilating fangirls.”

“Right?” Kurt leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped behind his head. “They know he's gay and yet they practically throw their panties at him whenever he so much as glances in their direction. They write fan fiction about fucking him. Fan fiction! Although is it fan fiction if it's about yourself and a celebrity?”

Frankie smirked, her right eyebrow arched so high it disappeared under her side swept bangs.“You'd throw your panties at him.”

“Yes, but honey, I'm gay. I'm supposed to.”

———————-

Kurt and Frankie, skipping a morning meeting and both manning two different laptops, only managed to get two VIP tickets before the show completely sold out, which meant they didn't have tickets for Bellie and June.

“It has to be you,” Kurt whispered, leaning against Frankie's cubicle desk with his arms folded. “You know I love June and Bellie more than a Paul Smith sample sale but it has to be you. I can't meet Blaine Anderson or, oh god, TOUCH him, without you next to me. You're the only one who truly understands my,” Kurt pursed his lips and waved his hands in the air, “affinity for Blaine.”

Frankie grinned and narrowed her eyes at Kurt, the glare from her computer screen reflecting in her Warby Parker frames. “Affinity? Really? Don't you mean unnatural bloodlust for his luscious ass?”

Kurt blanched. “Isn't that a bit…violent? Even for you? I don't want to tear the man limb from limb.”

“But you do want to punish his tight ass.”

“Oh god,” Kurt said, covering his face with his hands.

“The point is, of course I'll be your wingman. Or wingwoman? What's the right terminology for lesbian best friend who totally gets your insatiable and slightly inappropriate celebrity crush and is fully supportive and wants to see it through to fruition?”

“I think that's called being my Frankie.”

“Okay,” she preened, “I'll be your Frankie.”

“And what exactly do you mean by ‘seeing it through to fruition?'”

Frankie wiggled her eyebrows as Kurt's phone buzzed with a new text. “It's Bellie. She has a friend at The Agency Group who can get Blaine tickets and,” Kurt looked up from his phone, a far away look in his eyes as he whispered, “backstage passes.” Kurt looked at her, eyes wide, “…we could go backstage. We could…could…”

Frankie pried Kurt's phone from his hands and texted back asking how many tickets Bellie could get.

“She can get two tickets and two passes,” Frankie said, already running through the scenarios in her head. “If you and I do VIP, you are guaranteed to meet Blaine and get a photo. And we get in early to get a good spot in the front since it's a fucking GA show. If you take the passes, you might meet him and actually get to hang out with him, but you also may not, you know how those things go.”

Kurt's heart was racing, his hand on his mouth tracing over his bottom lip. “Mmhmm.”

“I'm going to tell Bellie to get the tickets and passes and we'll figure it out,” she said, typing the message quickly into Kurt's phone and adding, Kurt has officially lost his shit. This night is going to be epic.

———————-

The line to get into the Cannery started at the rickety, wooden porch and wound all the way through the parking lot and up to Cummins Station. There were hopeful girls in homemade t-shirts declaring love for Blaine and young boys in their tightest pants trying so hard not look like they were trying so hard. Fans had been lined up since 6am, broiling in the summer sun.

Kurt and Frankie walked the length of the line to the front of the venue where VIP ticket holders were supposed to meet. Bellie and June were coming later, promising to find them once they arrived. In the end, Kurt had decided he'd rather have the guarantee of meeting Blaine through the VIP than risk not meeting him in the bustle of backstage.

“I think I definitely made the right choice, right?” Kurt asked, as they reached the back of the VIP line. The tour manager came out the front door to address the line through a bullhorn. 

“If you're a VIP ticket holder, stay to the right of the stairwell. We'll be opening doors in about five minutes. If you're not a VIP ticket holder, please move to the back of the line where you belong.” Two girls in short, low-cut dresses with their boobs pushed up to their chins stepped out of line in a huff. 

“He's gay,” Kurt hissed as they walked past.

“Yeah, but even I can appreciate that he is one sexy motherfucker,” Frankie said, leaning past Kurt to watch the girls walk away. “And yes, you made the right choice.”

“I'm going to look like a fan,” Kurt said, smoothing his hands down the sides of his pants. “Maybe I should have used the passes?”

“Stop fidgeting, you look amazing.”

He'd labored over what to wear, wanting to look hot without looking like he was trying, just like every other gay guy in line. In the end he'd chosen skin tight black jeans with a fitted, red button down patterned with thin stripes of tiny black sparrows. The short sleeves cut just so on his arms, highlighting the definition of his biceps. His chestnut hair, swept up high and dramatic, was perfect.

“What's up with you, you're turning white,” Frankie said, pulling Kurt out of his thoughts.

“I'm nervous.”

“You meet artists all the time. It's your job, in fact? Remember? He's just another artist. You've met people way more famous than this guy.”

“I know but…it's Blaine Anderson. THE Blaine Anderson! I don't want to look like an idiot.”

“When have you ever, in your entire lifetime, looked like an idiot?”

The doors opened before Kurt could formulate a response, the line slowly shuffling forward, girls adjusting their clothes and applying more lipgloss. Once inside they were ushered to a table where unenthused hipsters checked them in and distributed tour laminates and wristbands. Normally, Kurt would never go through this process. He'd be backstage or with the artist or would come in right before the show started and stand at the sound booth to watch the show. The whole thing had him on edge. His upper lip was starting to sweat.

The line moved at a snail's pace, snaking through the venue to a side room next to the ballroom. Each slow step forward twisted tighter through Kurt's stomach.

“Kurt, are you okay?” Frankie worried. “I've never seen you this…” she motioned from his head to his feet, “undone.” Kurt could only manage to shrug and take another step forward.

They rounded the final corner and there he was, or there he almost was, Blaine Anderson. There was a black scrim backdrop set up for photos but Kurt could see Blaine through the thin black sheet, greeting fans and smiling for photos. Kurt's throat closed up. Blaine greeted each fan with a handshake or a quick hug, posed for a photo and then thanked them for coming. It was all very polite and very cute. Kurt started to panic about what he would say when suddenly a pretty young girl with a clipboard was asking his name.

“Ummm, Kurt?” he said, suddenly unsure.

“Blaine, this is Kurt,” she announced ushering him around the backdrop and directly into the arms of Blaine Anderson.

Blaine hugged him tightly and said his name into his ear, “Kurt,” over-pronouncing the “t” so that Kurt felt a puff of breath on his ear. Blaine pulled back and smiled a friendly, brilliant smile. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Kurt said, more breath than actual speaking.

“It's so nice to meet you, Kurt. Thank you for coming to my show!” Blaine's hands were on Kurt's biceps, his intentionally showcased biceps, and he was rubbing his thumbs slowly over Kurt's skin. He was shorter than Kurt, but not too short, wearing grey skinny jeans and a white t-shirt. His black curly hair was tousled the exact right amount and his eyes, up close, were a mesmerizing whiskey brown with tiny flecks of green. He was looking Kurt right in the eye and smiling so wide. Kurt was struck dumb. 

Someone asked them to turn for the photo. “Oh yeah, the photo,” Blaine laughed, turning Kurt towards the camera and looping an arm around his waist. Kurt wasn't sure if he smiled, wasn't sure if he said anything stupid, wasn't sure if he was still inhabiting his body.

“So, Kurt,” Blaine said, turning Kurt back towards him and grabbing his hands between them, “I hope you enjoy the show?”

A pause. “Yeah,” Kurt squeaked out.

“Yeah,” Blaine said, smiling again and pulling Kurt into a tight embrace. And then. “You look fucking amazing.” Right into Kurt's ear. Right into Kurt's ear while he squeezed his arms around Kurt's chest. And he hummed. Kurt could swear he hummed.

And then just as quickly as it started, it was over.

———————-

“Kurt, what the hell just happened?” Frankie said, pulling him to the front of the stage where the other VIP ticket holders were waiting. “It looked like you two were…lingering. And he kept whispering in your ear, what was he saying?”

Kurt looked at her and shook his head back and forth. “I don't…know? He just…said my name?”

“It had to have been more than that. And he couldn't stop hugging you! He didn't do that to anyone else, definitely didn't do it to me.” Her eyes were wide and she was bouncing up and down. “Are you losing your shit right now? Oh my god, Kurt!”

Kurt couldn't respond, could only replay Blaine's words in his mind. He grabbed Frankie by her shoulders and leaned in to whisper, “He said I look amazing.”

“HE WHAT!!”

Two girls in matching Blaine shirts turned around and glared.

“I'm sure,” Kurt said, waiting for the girls to turn back around, “I'm sure he says stuff like that to everyone. You know how flirty artists can be with fans. And I've heard that about him, that he's very flirty. I'm sure it's just part of his schtick.”

“He didnt tell me I look amazing. He didn't hug me three times.”

“Two times. And his exact words were you look fucking amazing.”

“Holy shit, Kurt! Blaine Anderson thinks you're a hot piece of ass!”

Kurt covered her mouth with his hands and squeezed his eyes shut. It wasn't possible, wasn't even remotely plausible, that Blaine Anderson would notice him. Right?

“It's totally possible,” Frankie said, moving his hand away from her mouth, “and in fact, just happened.”

Kurt opened his eyes, realizing his private thoughts had managed to pop right out of his mouth, and full on giggled. Like a crazed hyena.

Frankie laughed and pulled out her phone to text Bellie and June. Where the hell are you guys? Kurt is having a fangirl meltdown and I need backup.

———————-

The show was everything Kurt hoped it would be. He and Frankie were three rows back, center stage, right in front of Blaine. The venue was packed with bodies, the temperature soaring, but Blaine never relented. He sang old indie fan favorites and covers and new songs and hits from his latest album. Kurt was euphoric, singing along to every song, sweating his ass off, and watching Blaine. Kurt never took his eyes off of Blaine. 

“He keeps looking at you,” Frankie shouted over the screams of the crowd at the end of a song. Kurt laughed and shook his head no, keeping his eyes on Blaine. Because no way Blaine was looking at him.

“Is everybody having a good time,” Blaine growled into the microphone, the crowd erupting into screams and cheers. Blaine put his hand over the microphone and turned to talk to his band. The band nodded yes as Blaine turned back around, smiling. “We're gonna venture a little bit off the set list if that's okay with you.”

A girl next to Kurt screamed, “You do you, baby!”

“I'll do you,” another girl screamed.

Blaine took off his acoustic guitar and pulled an electric guitar from the stand. “One of my favorite bands, Walk The Moon, has an amazing song that I'd like to play for you now. It's about seeing someone, touching someone, and feeling that undeniable chemistry,” Blaine said, looking directly at Kurt. He couldn't deny it this time, Blaine was staring right at him, a sly grin on his face as the opening guitar chords started. “This is called Shiver.”

Frankie grabbed Kurt and shook him. “HOLY FUCK, KURT!”

Kurt smiled, holding Blaine's gaze, an electric current running through his body as Blaine started to sing.

———————-

Kurt and Frankie found the girls by the sound booth after the show. 

“We tried to find you guys but the crowd was insane! And I can never get any reception in this building” Bellie said, hugging them both. “Blaine was amazing! Wasn't he amazing? Did you get to meet him? Do you have the photo? Tell me everything!!”

Kurt felt weightless, floating on the excitement of the show, the words Blaine whispered in his ear, the intensity of his gaze. “Tonight was perfect. Perfect, perfect, perfect.”

“Yes, we met him,” Frankie interrupted. “He pawed all over Kurt and whispered sweet nothings in his ear. And then he stared at him for most of the show.”

“Holy shit, is that true?” Bellie shouted, grabbing Kurt around the waist.

“It's based in truth, but I wouldn't say he pawed all over me. He was nice. Perfect. He was perfect.”

“Yes, you keep saying that. How do you explain the song?” Frankie said, pointing a finger in his face.

“What song?” Bellie asked. “What song??”

Kurt shook his head as Frankie continued. “The Walk The Moon cover. He sang it. To Kurt. Stared right at him the entire song.”

“NO! WAY! I did notice he seemed distracted during that song but I couldn't see what he was looking at. Are you serious?”

Frankie nodded and Kurt blushed. “We were standing right in front, right in his eye line. He wasn't singing it to me, that's ridiculous.”

“Where's June?” Frankie asked.

Bellie motioned to the sound booth where June was tossing her hair and chatting up the lighting guy. “Apparently she knows him from the Sam Smith show? She made out with him?”

“Always making out with the lighting guy,” Frankie laughed. “June! Get over here!”

June said her good-byes and bounced over to the group. “Kurt!” she squealed, “was it everything you hoped it would be? I thought he was so great, so sexy! I was super impressed!”

“Yes,” Kurt grinned, his cheeks sore from smiling all night, “best night ever! I feel like it went by so fast…I wish it wasn't over.”

“It's not over,” June said, waving two All Access passes in front of Kurt's face. “Go talk to him.”