“No way,” Kurt said, backing away from June. “I can't.”

Every fantasy Kurt ever had about Blaine Anderson came rushing back; sitting next to Blaine on a plane and they start talking, running into Blaine at a show and they start talking, going to an industry event and running into Blaine and they start talking. In every fantasy he and Blaine have immediate chemistry, talk for hours and, because it's a fantasy, eventually end up in Blaine's hotel room doing dirty things to each other. But those were fantasies, not aspirations. Now that he had the opportunity to actually talk to Blaine, to find out if they had really did have chemistry, he couldn't do it.

“Kurt, these passes are still good and you know how to work a backstage. Go talk to him.”

All three girls were staring at Kurt like he'd lost his mind. Here was his chance, the thing he'd dreamed about for so long, and he was frozen. “But I've already met him. In the fan line. I'll look like a stalker.” And there's no way I'll be able to keep my shit together, he thought.

“I'll go with you,” June said, grabbing his hand. “He's already met me. I can say you're the one I was talking to him about! Come on…”

“GO,” Frankie insisted as Bellie pushed him towards the exit.

Kurt allowed June to pull him along, still muttering that it wasn't a good idea, he was going to look like a crazy fan, they shouldn't be doing this. They walked past the bar and around the corner to the backstage entrance. A large, bored man in a black polo with a toothpick hanging out of his mouth stopped them as June flashed the passes. 

“You have to wear those,” he grumbled.

“No problem,” June chirped, peeling off the backing and smacking the vinyl sticker onto Kurt's shirt. It was a photo of Blaine with the tour name and date on it. 

“Oh good, now I'm wearing his face. That's not weird at all.”

“Shut-up and come on.”

Together they stepped over cables and shimmied past guitar amps to make it to the narrow staircase leading down to the basement dressing rooms. Kurt had been down there numerous times with dozens of artists, but this time was different. This time his palms were sweating and his knees were trembling. What the hell was he supposed to say to Blaine Anderson?

June walked into the green room, Kurt trailing behind her. It was a tiny room, not nearly big enough for the amount of people in it, and one entire wall was taken up with a long folding table covered in alcohol.

A small, cheery man walked over to them, plastic cup in hand. “Hey…June, right?”

“That's right, hi! This is Kurt Hummel. He works on the marketing team at BCA. Kurt, this is Tec Collins, Blaine's manager.”

“Oh, amazing,” Tec said, reaching out to shake Kurt's hand, “You guys are doing great things at BCA. I saw that one band, The Filters?” Kurt nodded. “Yeah, I saw them on Fallon. So great.”

“Thank you. Nice to meet you,” Kurt said, hoping Tec didn't notice the clamminess of his hand. “I really enjoyed the show.”

“Yeah? I'm glad to hear that, especially from someone in the industry. He worked really hard to get all the elements right for this tour.”

“Where is he?” June cut in, making Kurt's cheeks burn.

“He's got another round of VIPs to meet. Fucking brutal, I don't know how he does it night after night. He meets tons of people before every show, sings his ass off, and then does even more meet and greets. He's a fucking machine.”

“Probably good for him to blow off steam once that's all done, huh?” June was pressing. Kurt wanted to melt into the stained, concrete floor.

“Exactly,” Tec said, raising his cup and gulping the last of his drink. “Help yourselves to anything. The promoter got the good tequila!”

“Sure, thanks,” June said, waving as Tec moved to speak to other people in the room.

“Are you insane,” Kurt whisper shouted. “You practically asked him to go out with us.”

“That's exactly what I'm doing.”

“You…can't.” The color was slowly draining from Kurt's face.

“Why not? We're music people! We know the best places to go! And he said Blaine's going to need to blow off steam…we can help him do that.”

“June, I can't…”

June shushed him as Tec wandered back over, his cup refilled. “Hey, you guys would know. Blaine wants to go to an authentic Nashville honkey tonk tonight.”

June smiled and cut her eyes at Kurt. “We can definitely help you out.”

———————-

“And then what happened?”

June was recounting the green room events to the girls as they walked out to meet the Uber.

“He asked for my number. He's going to text me when they're done and meet up with us.”

“HOLY SHIT!” Frankie yelled, “Kurt are you dying right now?”

“A) It's never going to happen, he was just being polite and B) It's never going to happen,” Kurt said, peeling the backstage pass off his shirt. “Let's just revel in the fact that I got to meet Blaine and the show was fantastic and go get a drink.”

The girls continued talking about the possibility of meeting up with Blaine while Kurt stared at the wrinkled image of Blaine from the  All Access sticker. What if Blaine and his manager actually did meet up with them? What would he say? What would he do? Would Blaine remember him from the fan meet and greet? Would he be creeped out?

“Kurt, focus,” June said, snapping in his face. “Robert's?”

“They aren't going to meet us,” Kurt said, rolling his eyes.

“Kurt,” Frankie groaned, “it won't hurt for us to get a drink at Robert's. If it just so happens that Tec texts June and we just so happen to be at a famous Nashville honky tonk, all the better!”

“But I'm all sweaty and my hair-”

“Your hair is fine, you look perfect. You always look perfect,” June said, reaching up to touch his hair.

Kurt slapped her hand away, “You know the rules. Never. Touch. The hair.”

“Aha,” Frankie laughed, pointing at Kurt, “there's the sassy bitch we know and love.”

“Haha, very funny,” Kurt deadpanned. “And fine, we'll go to Robert's. Even though nothing is going to happen.”

———————-

The girls were half-drunk and twirling on the dance floor when June checked her phone. Kurt was in the back, leaning against the bar with most of his gin and tonic still swirling in his glass when June came running through the crowd. “They're coming! Kurt, he's on his way!”

Kurt's mouth fell open. “No.”

“YES! Tec texted me and they are coming here right now! Blaine's coming!!!!” June smacked him on the ass and ran back up to the dance floor. The band was playing Hank Williams Jr. and the crowd was appropriately enthused. Kurt started to sweat and gulped down the rest of his drink. He turned around and set his glass down on the bar and closed his eyes. Pull it together, Hummel. He's just another artist. This is not a big deal. You do this for a living. He is not fantasy Blaine, he's a person. Just talk to him like you would any other artist.

Kurt was still murmuring to himself with his eyes closed when he felt a warm hand on his back. Kurt opened his eyes to see Blaine Fucking Anderson grinning right in his face.

“Hi.”

“How'd you get here so fast?” Kurt could have kicked himself the moment the words flew out of his mouth.

“Should I got out and come back in again?” Blaine laughed.

Kurt shook his head, humiliated. “No, no, sorry. Ignore me.”

“I'd rather not,” Blaine said, his face so close, his eyes so close, lips so close. “You're Kurt, right?”

“Yes?” Blaine quirked an eyebrow, smiling. “I mean, yes, I'm Kurt.”

“I have a small confession. My manager told me about meeting you and your friend after the show and I thought to myself, It couldn't possibly be the same gorgeous guy I met during the meet and greet. And yet here you are.”

“You remember that, huh?” Kurt said, hanging his head down, embarrassed. “I don't normally do that, go through a VIP line, but I really wanted to meet you.” He bit his bottom lip. “I probably shouldn't have admitted that?”

“No, no,” Blaine laughed, “I'm so glad you did otherwise I wouldn't have met you.” Blaine smiled his wide, blinding smile, a smile Kurt had seen in thousands of photos and videos, and rubbed his hand across Kurt's back. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Oh, you don't need to do-”

“I want to.” He was looking right into Kurt's eyes and Kurt felt the breath leave his body. At the meet and greet, he hadn't been able to really look at Blaine. He'd been too nervous, too rushed, too everything. But now, here, everything slowed down. Now he could see the curve of Blaine's eyelashes and the plump pout of his bottom lip. He could see three black curls wrapped around the top of Blaine's ear. He could see Blaine's Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed and oh, Blaine was watching him, too.

“I…” Kurt was losing ground fast. He knew his cheeks were red and he'd already made an ass of himself. Might as well go all the way. “I'd love a gin and tonic?”

Blaine smoothed his hand down Kurt's arm and turned to motion to the bartender. Kurt watched the way the words fell out of Blaine's mouth, watched his hands grip the weathered wood of the bar top. 

Blaine turned back towards him, his body inches away. They were standing between two bar stools, barely enough space for one person. Kurt could feel the heat from Blaine's body, could feel Blaine's knees and his hip and he was definitely not going to survive this. 

“The show was amazing,” Kurt said, attempting to sound casual.

“Thanks,” Blaine said, his voice low.

“Oh, you probably need to save your voice! We don't have to talk if you don't-”

“I want to talk to you,” Blaine whispered, leaning in even closer, “I just shouldn't be shouting over the crowd noise.”

Their drinks arrived and Kurt felt grateful to have something to do with his hands. “Do you use a vocal coach?” Kurt asked. “I mean, not that you need work on your voice, it's amazing, I just know that it can be really helpful for learning how to preserve your voice and keep it healthy during a long tour and I work for a record label here in Nashville and we use someone really great if you needed a recommendation I could get you her name she's the best.” Kurt blurted out the entire speech in one long sentence. Blaine was watching him, smiling, sipping his drink.

He leaned impossibly closer, speaking softly into Kurt's ear, “I do use a vocal coach. I have this whole regimen I do every day when I'm touring. I take a shit load of vitamins and do vocal exercises and I steam every morning.”

“Oh, good, that's….good.”

Blaine set his glass down on the bar and took Kurt's and set it down. “I'm going to show you something, don't freak out, okay? Sometimes this freaks people out.”

Kurt's hands fell to his sides, “Okay.” He felt out of his body, as if the entire scenario was happening to someone else and he was hearing it re-told, his imagination filling in the blanks.

Blaine raised his hands next to Kurt's face and smiled a smile that went from his hairline to his shoulders. He then slowly, carefully, slid his hands up Kurt's jaw, his fingertips sliding into Kurt's hair. He softly pressed his thumbs against Kurt's ears and leaned in, his nose brushing against Kurt. He spoke in the quietest possible voice, “Can you hear me, Kurt?” It was as if the room was empty and Blaine was speaking in a full voice.

Kurt nodded his head, a fraction of a yes, his entire body hyper-focused on Blaine's closeness, his hands on his face and in his hair. 

“If you do this,” Blaine said, his fingers scratching the tiniest bit through Kurt's hair, “even in a crowded room, you can clearly hear what I'm saying. Amazing isn't it?”

Blaine pulled back, his fingers tracing down Kurt's jaw. Kurt cleared his throat and reached for his drink. He couldn't speak. Couldn't think. He had never been so tongue-tied, never been so captivated by a total stranger.  Of course, that wasn't true, he knew all about Blaine. He knew his birthday and his middle name and how he got into music and his brother's name. But he didn't know him.

“How do you do it, meet so many people every night? None of my artists would ever take the time to meet that many people before and after every show.”

“Oh, I love it. In fact, I insist on it. The only reason I have a career is because of people who care about my music. I love meeting them and saying thank you.”

“But you make yourself so accessible. Aren't there crazy fans who want to take advantage?”

“Sometimes,” Blaine grinned. “Like tonight…this girl came through the line and I immediately knew what she wanted. She walked right up to me, totally confident, and said, ‘My husband and I each have a Top 5 celebrity list and you're on mine. He's knows I'm here and I have permission…so…'”

Kurt's eyebrows shot up. “What did you say?”

“I told her thank you but no thank you.”

“Doesn't she know you're gay?”

Blaine leaned closer, which seemed impossible given how close they already were, and licked his lips. Kurt felt himself growing hard in his black skinny jeans. “I guess,” Blaine said, voice soft and eyes soft and fingertips so fucking soft on Kurt's elbow, “she didn't care. She just wanted to fuck me.

“Does that,” Kurt swallowed, his mouth dry, “does that happen a lot?”

“It happens,” Blaine said, tilting his head to the side, his body now pressed into Kurt's.

“Does it ever,” Kurt closed his eyes, his dick pressed into Blaine's thigh, “do you ever…”

“Kurt! You've got to come dance with us!” It was Bellie. She was drunk and shouting into Kurt's ear, oblivious to the closeness between he and Blaine. “You're Blaine. I'm Annabelle. You're cute,” she said, throwing her arm around Blaine's shoulder and giggling in his ear.

“Hi Annabelle,” he smiled, “looks like you're having a good time?”

Blaine shifted away from Kurt. It wasn't enough to notice, but Kurt noticed.

“I AM having a good time,” Bellie squealed, “come dance with us! Oh look! There's June….JUNE!!!!” Bellie jumped up and down, motioning for June who came bouncing towards them.

“Heyyyyyy! Having fun? Blaine, you and I met briefly before the show. I'm June.”

“I remember, good to see you again.”

“You guys should come and dance with us,” she smiled, winking at Kurt. Blaine was now facing away from Kurt, the heat of the moment gone.

“Thanks, but Kurt and I are having a good time back here, aren't we, Kurt?” Blaine turned his head to catch Kurt's eye.

“Oh right, Kurt!” Bellie yelled, kissing Kurt's cheek. “He's obsessed with you, you know. Like,” she raised her hands in the air, spilling some of her drink on the floor, “obsessed.”

“Bellie!” Kurt screeched, “why don't you and June go back up front and we'll join you in a minute, okay?”

Kurt pushed them on their way and turned back around to face Blaine. “I'm sorry about her. She loves her Fireball!”

Blaine pulled Kurt back to him, pressing them together between the bar stools. “Where were we?” he said, speaking directly into Kurt's ear, his lips brushing Kurt's skin, his hand on Kurt's hip. “Or more importantly, where should we be going?” Blaine's hand reached around to grab Kurt's ass.

“Oh,” Kurt said, his brain snapping back to reality. Things were moving in entirely the wrong direction. Fantasies aside, he didn't want to be some conquest, didn't want to be a notch on an artist's bedpost. He'd seen countless fans give in to the desire, the fantasy, allow themselves to be someone else for just one night. It never ended well. “Please don't be that guy.” Blaine's thigh was still pressed up against him again. 

“What guy?” Blaine grinned, kissing Kurt's jaw.

Kurt pulled away. “The douchey guy who sleeps with fans.”

Blaine stood up straighter, putting some space between them. “I'm not. Kurt, that's not-”

“Look, you're incredible, which I realize is no surprise to you, but I know how this works. You find someone at every show, someone like me who clearly has a thing for you, and you flirt with them and buy them a drink and do the whisper-in-the-ear trick and holy shit, it works. God knows I've fantasized about it enough times. And now it's happening and it's you and you're all up on me and grabbing my ass and, fuck, Blaine, it's all too much.”

“Kurt, please let me explain, I'm not…”

“It's okay, really. Trust me, all of my artists do it. Hell, I'd probably do it if I were you. And even though the idea of being desired by Blaine Anderson makes my toes curl it's so insanely hot, I just can't. I'm sorry.” Kurt stared at him for a moment, attempting to memorize his face. To capture this moment he would never get back. “I'm gonna go.”

“Wait, don't go. Have another drink with me.”

“It's okay, Blaine, seriously. I'm so happy I got to meet you and see your show. Thanks again, tonight was a dream come true.” 

Kurt peeled himself out of the small space between Blaine and the bar stools and made his way through the crowd to the dance floor at the front of the bar. Bellie and June were dancing with Blaine's manager and Frankie was talking to a tall blonde woman. Her caught her eye and she walked over to him. 

“Let's go. Can we go?”

Frankie could read the look in Kurt's eyes and pulled him towards the door, grabbing Bellie and June along the way. “Time to go, girls.”

“Noooooo,” Bellie cried, “we're dancing!”

“Party's over,” Frankie said, looking pointedly at June.

“Okay,” June said, “let me say good-bye to Tec.”

Frankie and Kurt walked out the front door and into the humid night air of Broadway. “What happened in there? I went to find Bellie and you two looked like, well, you looked like you didn't need any help.”

“Nothing happened. He's just not…actually he's exactly how I imagined. But sometimes the fantasy needs to stay a fantasy.”

“Oh,” Frankie said, looping her arm through Kurt's and laying her head on his shoulder. There were many things to love about Frankie, but Kurt loved her ability to instinctively read a situation most of all.

June half-carried Bellie out the front door and onto the sidewalk. “Do we need to call an Uber?”

“It's on the way,” Kurt said, “let's go home.”