Rachel met Kurt outside of Cooper's with a disapproving frown and an unceremonious sniff.

"You smell like alcohol," she informed him, wrinkling her nose as Kurt stumbled toward the car door.

"Hello to you, too, Rachel," he muttered to her back. He slid into the passenger seat, buckled his seatbelt, and lowered his seat back with a blissful smile and closed eyes. He heard Rachel close her door and insert the key into the ignition, but she didn't start the car. Kurt opened one eye, only to find Rachel staring at him curiously.

"How much have you had to drink?" Her brow was furrowed in that typically Rachel expression of I disagree completely with your life choices.

Kurt half-shrugged and closed his eyes again. "Enough to feel it tomorrow morning. But it was worth it." His lips curled upward as he savored the memory of the warmth and fullness of Blaine's lips, the feel of his hands, one cupping Kurt's cheek and the other gripping his waist. "God, was it worth it."

"What do you mean? What could you possibly have gained from ensuring you'll have a hangover all day tomorrow?" Rachel sounded as if she were seconds away from having him committed.

"Confidence, Rachel." Kurt laughed and opened his eyes fully. "Confidence is key."

Rachel turned her attention back to the car, starting it and pulling away from the curb. Kurt craned his head to look through Cooper's frosted windows, trying to catch a glimpse of Blaine, but he was lost amid a crowd of people. When Kurt turned away, he caught Rachel glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Yes?" he asked, amused.

She pursed her lips. "Are you okay, Kurt? You seem a little... off."

"What, because I'm happy? Because I relaxed and had a bit of fun for a change?" Kurt instantly felt bad for snapping at her, but she had a perpetually judgmental look that never failed to raise his guard. "Kissing someone isn't a crime, Rachel," he pointed out defensively.

Rachel slammed on the brakes harder than was necessary, bringing the car to a shuddering stop at a traffic light. "WHAT?"

Kurt rubbed his head and winced. "Rachel— sudden movements. Not good. Also: inside voice. Please."

"Sorry, sorry!" Rachel stage-whispered. "But what about a kiss?"

Kurt feigned innocence, casually looking out the window at the passing cars. "Kiss? Did I say something about kissing?"

Even while whispering, Rachel was able to hurl her words at him with the force of a Midwest tornado. "You know very well that you mentioned kissing, Kurt, and if you don't fess up, I swear to God, I will—"

"Okay!" Kurt huffed out a laugh and held his hand up in resignation. "Okay. So, I've been going to Cooper's for awhile now, right, to see this guy—"

"So that's where you've been going! I knew it," Rachel crowed triumphantly. "A secret boyfriend! How scandalous."

Kurt glared at her. "Are you going to let me tell the story, or will I have to duct-tape your mouth shut?" He waited until she adopted a contrite look and mimed zipping her lips together before he continued. "Okay, so they got a new singer at Cooper's—"

"Wait, really?" Rachel pouted. "I really liked Consider the Lemming." She glanced at Kurt. "Oh. Interrupting. Sorry, go on."

"Anyway," Kurt continued, "I had this weird feeling that I knew this guy, so all this time I've been trying to figure out from where. So tonight— I don't know, I just felt more... confident. The alcohol, my birthday, I just—" He broke off, a flood of sensations crowding his mind. The feeling of Blaine's fingers curled just slightly around his face, tickling his cheekbones. The sight of his eyelashes fluttering closed over amber-flecked eyes right before his lips connected with Kurt's. His lips...

What's wrong with me? He told himself to snap out of it. It was only a kiss, after all. Only a kiss.

"Kurt?"

Kurt blinked, coming back to the conversation. "Right, sorry. Um..."

"So you introduced yourself..." Rachel prompted.

"Right, and we talked for hours, and we just ended up... kissing," Kurt finished lamely. "Oh, but you'll never guess who he turned out to be."

"An up-and-coming, Broadway-bound star?"

"No."
"A talent scout slash director, on the lookout for rising talent?" Rachel asked, her eyes gleaming as she drove.

Kurt shook his head.

"A young man, ostracized by his peers, but dreaming of the day when—"

"Rachel. No." Kurt sighed. "He's from the Warblers. Remember the lead singer?"

Rachel nodded three times in rapid succession. "The Dalton Academy Warblers, an all-boys a capella group with school colors blue and red. We tied at Sectionals in 2010 but beat them successively at Regionals in 2011 and 2012." She recited the facts as if they were lines she had studied every night. "The lead singer..." She cocked her head, thinking. "I remember him. Short guy? Way too much gel in his hair? Made funny faces when he sang?"

"Yeah, that's him," Kurt laughed. "He's different now, though. He grew up." He paused. "Well, not vertically. But he doesn't use nearly as much product in his hair anymore."

Rachel giggled. "Please tell me you at least know his name."

"Blaine."

Kurt rolled his eyes as Rachel's head whipped around to look at him. "Eyes on the road, Rach. And it's a different Blaine. God. What are the odds, right? I mean, it's not really a common name..."

They drove in silence the rest of the way home. Rachel didn't say another word until they walked into their apartment and were settled on the sofa, Rachel primly and Kurt slumped back into the impress of the worn leather. Rachel turned to him, a rueful smile on her face.

"So. Dating the opposition."

"He's not the opposition," Kurt groaned. "At least we're not competing against the guy I'm da— I mean, not dating, I—" Kurt stopped at the sight of Rachel's smirk. "Oh, shut up. Blaine's nice. It's not like he's Jesse St. Jerk or something."

For some reason, Rachel blushed scarlet at his words. Kurt stared at her. She couldn't still be embarrassed about the whole Jesse debacle, could she? He opened his mouth, but she changed the subject before he could ask her what was wrong.

"You'll have to introduce him to me. I'd love to talk Glee Clubs with him. Show choirs forge tight bonds." She said the last quietly, without the usual intensity that accompanied most of her words.

"Come with me to Cooper's tomorrow," Kurt suggested. "We'll have dinner and you can meet him. I swear they're going to end up giving me a lifetime pass, I'm there so often."

Rachel answered his smile with one of her own, but her reaction was delayed. "Yeah..."

"Okay, what's wrong with you?" Kurt frowned. "You're not acting yourself."

"What's wrong with me?" Rachel raised her eyebrows. "You made out with a stranger, and I'm not acting like myself?"

"Hey, I was drunk and he was gorgeous!" Kurt protested. "It wasn't a big deal."

"Uh-huh." Rachel eyed him knowingly for a moment, then stood up from the couch with a yawn. "See you tomorrow?"

He nodded and waved goodnight, waiting for her to close her bedroom door before he stood and crossed to the phone in the kitchen.

It was funny how life kept going no matter what earth-shattering revelation waited with bated breath behind your shoulders. Kurt had lied when he told Rachel that kissing Blaine was nothing. It was want. It was safety. It was life. It was much, much more than nothing.

And now, here he was dialing Anthony's phone number to find out whether or not he'd gotten the job that would likely alter his world forever. Yet life went on. Dirty dishes in the sink. That insistent stain on the countertop. Life kept going even if you were stuck. More often that not, it took you with it.

Kurt dialed Anthony's number with shaking fingers and heard the tone ring once before he realized that not only was midnight probably not the best time to call his boss, but still slightly drunk definitely wasn't the best way. He hung up, feeling slightly relieved despite himself. As long as he didn't call, he was still in the running. Until tomorrow morning, at least, disappointment couldn't touch him.

Kurt slept fitfully that night, his dreams revolving around a particular set of eyes and hands and warm breath. He woke up sweaty, tangled in the cool cotton of his bed sheets, and with a strange sense of loss tingling across his lips. He touched his fingers to them softly, curiously. It was just a kiss. So why...?

He sat up. He had no time to dwell on it. Today was the day he called Anthony. He forced himself to go through his morning routine slowly while he rehearsed what he would say to Anthony if the news ended up being of the bad variety.

Hello, Anthony.
Oh, I didn't get it?
Well, thanks for reviewing my portfolio.
I look forward to any future opportunities I'll have while working on the team.

After washing down an aspirin with half a cup of tea and a few bites of toast, Kurt was ready. Now was the time. It was early, only 8 a.m., but Anthony would likely be awake; he'd been working ceaselessly on the Summer Line for the past three months, and it wasn't uncommon to walk into his office first thing in the morning and find him facedown on his desk, a pile of fabrics as his unconventional pillow.

Kurt picked up the phone. The door to Rachel's room was closed, and he wanted to use this opportunity to make the phone call in privacy before she woke up. That way, if he didn't get it, he'd have time to compose himself before he had to face her kind words and pity.

He dialed Anthony's number, feeling much more nervous than he had the night before, probably since he'd still had liquid courage racing through his blood the night before.

This was it. For better or for worse, this was the moment that he would take the plunge.

Anthony picked up on the first ring. "Kurt Hummel!"

Kurt could practically hear the grin coming from the receiving end of the phone. He leaned against the countertop, one hand cradling the phone against his cheek. "Anthony, hi. You, uh—" He coughed. "You called yesterday?"

"Yes, I did! I wanted to talk to you about the portfolio you turned in last week."

"My portfolio?" Kurt asked, confused.

"Don't sound so nervous, Kurt!" Anthony laughed, and Kurt heard the distinct sound of a file cabinet opening and shutting on his end. "It was fantastic. Really cool stuff. There are quite a few designs in here that I'd love to see in the Summer Line."

Kurt swallowed, opened his mouth, and closed it again. He had no idea what to say. His boss loved his work. His boss loved his work.

"Kurt?"

"Yes, yes, I'm still here!" Kurt scrambled to say. "Um. Thank you. So much. That means a lot to me, to hear you say that." Don't gush, he reminded himself.

"So, listen," Anthony continued briskly, "Most of your designs are a bit too intricate to fit in this year, but I wanted to know if you would be open to us incorporating them into next year's lineup. We'd need your help, of course."

Kurt nodded before realizing that Anthony couldn't see him. "Sure," he said, making an effort to sound happy. He was glad that Anthony wanted to use his designs, but this meant at least a year more of working on the team. And if he was getting this duty of working on the Summer Line for next year, that meant he wasn't getting the Wicked job. Kurt swallowed his disappointment. "I'd love to."

"Great! You're obviously not going to have the time to be completely in charge of this project, so I'm placing Brendon Durano in charge. He had a lot of good visions for combining a variety of styles for a themed Summer Line next year."

"Brendon's in charge?" Kurt couldn't keep the frustrated tone out of his voice. First he didn't get the Wicked job, and now he couldn't even be in charge of his own designs.

"Well yes," Anthony said impatiently. "Like I said, you won't have time. Brendon will be in charge, and the rest of the team will be working under him."

Anthony rattled on about his plans for the upcoming year, but Kurt couldn't bring himself to listen past the crushing disappointment crouching in his chest. He would be following Brendon's orders. He had practically been demoted. He could picture Brendon's sneering face now, his lips curled into a mix of triumph and derision.

"— to ask Susan when all of our schedules will line up," Anthony was saying.

"Susan?"

"Susan Hilferty. Come on, Kurt, keep up," Anthony chided.

"Wait, what about her?"

Anthony sighed. "Haven't you been listening? Don't make me regret giving you her Assistant position! I was saying that we'll need to have occasional meetings with you to discuss the particulars of your designs, so I'll have to ask Susan when she can let you go for a few hours so you can discuss things with Brendon and the rest of the team."

Kurt tried to say something, anything, but his voice didn't seem to be working properly. "I—oh," he finally squeaked.

"This is all assuming you accept the job," Anthony said, a note of uncertainty leaking into his voice.

Kurt found his words and hastily spoke them. "Yes, yes, I want the job. Yes."

"Good. Congratulations, Kurt. You are officially the Assistant Costume Designer for Broadway's Wicked Revival Tour of 2018."

His legs barely able to support him, Kurt slumped into a kitchen chair. He thought he could feel his heart racing down his chest and somewhere into his stomach. "Thank you. So much."

Anthony laughed. "Thank you. I'm proud to have you on our team."

Kurt heard the sound of muffled voices coming from Anthony's side.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Anthony said to someone. "Kurt, you still there?"

"Yes."

"Okay, well, I need to go now. That's really all I had to let you know, anyway. I'll let you enjoy the rest of your weekend, because we'll be getting down to business on Monday."

"Thanks, Anthony," Kurt said again, breathlessly.

"No problem."

After hanging up, Kurt couldn't do much more than stare at the phone in disbelief, his face breaking into a grin. He had gotten the job. No matter how many times he repeated it to himself, he couldn't believe it. I got the job.

"Rachel!" Kurt called out to her, his voice an ecstatic song. "Guess who's working on Wicked?"

He couldn't help but dance a bit on his way to her room. Life was good.

Rachel and Kurt made their way over to Cooper's early that evening, in the hopes that they could catch Blaine before he started his set. When they walked in, Kurt didn't see Blaine among the penguin-colored waiters traversing the dining area. Maybe he was in the kitchen.

He and Rachel decided to wait at the bar until Blaine showed up. They both drank straight water— Rachel because she didn't drink alcohol much after the trainwreck New Directions party she had held in high school, and Kurt because he was still nursing a headache from the night before.

"Do you see him anywhere?" Rachel asked after they had been there for a half-hour. She looked bored, and had been checking her texts every couple of minutes.

Kurt took another cursory glance around the room, but couldn't see any curly-haired waiter anywhere. "Not yet. I can ask Santana where he is if she's working tonight..."

"Santana?" Rachel repeated, choking on her water. "Lopez?"

"The one and only," Kurt confirmed. "I met her here the night I went on that disaster date with that jerk."

"I never thought she'd end up in New York. I wonder what brought her here," Rachel mused.

Kurt shrugged, not nearly as intrigued as Rachel. He had more pressing matters on his mind. "I wonder if she can tell me what Blaine's schedule is..."

"Oh, Kurt." Rachel looked at him, a strange mix of worry and amusement in her voice. "You've fallen hard, haven't you?"

Kurt was spared the indignity of answering Rachel by the flash of a familiar, high-ponytailed woman in an apron. "Hey, San—"

He broke off as the woman turned toward him. Not Santana. "Sorry," he apologized, "I thought you were someone else."

Her nametag read Kelly with a smiley face. Judging by the beaming smile she threw at him, the name was warranted. "Well, is there anything I can do for you?"

"No, thank you." Kurt was struck by a sudden thought as she began to turn away. "Oh, actually, yes. You know the guy who performs here on Fridays and is a waiter every other day?"

"Oh, yes," Kelly's smile turned all-knowing and all teeth. "Blaine. He's well-known around here."

"Do you know if he's working tonight?"

"I'm not sure, hun. He was supposed to, but I haven't seen him all night." She laughed. "And it's hard for him to be late, being who he is."

"Who he is?" Kurt asked, not understanding. He glanced at Rachel, who looked just as mystified as he was.

"Would you like to talk to his brother? He can probably answer more questions than me," Kelly said. "I can bring him over right now if he's not too busy."

"Does he work here, too?"

"In a manner of speaking," Kelly said, her smile shifting into that of someone who was laughing at a private joke. "Let me go get him."

"Okay," Kurt said, watching curiously as Kelly left into the kitchens and returned less than a minute later with a man who shared Blaine's good looks. He was tall, with dark, wavy locks and eyes like the sky.

Kelly left after bringing Blaine's brother over. Kurt stared at the man for an uncomfortable moment, looking for hidden similarities between he and Blaine, before Rachel nudged him.

"Oh, um... hi," Kurt began, unsure of what exactly to say.

Rachel took over. "Good evening! We were wondering if you know where Blaine is?"

"Depends who's asking," the man said, cracking a grin at Rachel, who immediately presented her hand for shaking.

"Rachel Berry," she answered promptly, giving his hand a vigorous shake. "If you don't know who I am, don't worry— you will."

Cooper laughed loudly. "I like your style, Rachel Berry. I'm Cooper."

"The Cooper? As in, owner of Cooper's?" Rachel asked, eyes wide.

Kurt's brain clicked into realization. Blaine was Cooper's brother. That's why he did so much at the restaurant. That's why he talked to the bartender like they were old friends.

Rachel was still staring at Cooper as if he were Barbra Streisand. "I love your buns!" She clapped a hand over her mouth, as if that would stop the words that had already left it. "No, I didn't mean— not your buns. The restaurant's. I mean, I'm sure yours are nice, too, but I didn't look, so—

Cooper held up a hand to halt her faltering. "It's fine, I get it," he said, eyebrows raised. "And for the record, my buns are fabulous."

Rachel giggled, a little hysterically. Kurt thought it was probably time to steer the conversation onto a more manageable path.

"So, could you tell us where Blaine is? He told me he'd be here."

Cooper considered them both. "You're friends of his?"

Kurt hesitated before answering. Friends? Were they friends? They had talked for hours. They had enjoyed each other's company. Did friends kiss their friends? Not like that. Then again, Kurt had never really had a close guy friend before, so how would he know? "Yes," he answered finally, deciding that the alternative answer would be too complicated and embarrassing to explain.

"Then you should know that he left," Cooper said, his smile disappearing. "He moved back to California."

Kurt felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. "He left?" he repeated.

"Cooper nodded. "Yeah. I'm sorry," he said, correctly reading the disappointment in Kurt's eyes. "It was really short notice. He left this morning. But I could tell him you dropped by, if you'd like?"

Rachel nodded and opened her mouth, but Kurt beat her to it. "No, that's fine."

"It's really no problem," Cooper said slowly, looking first at Rachel, who was staring at Kurt, puzzled, and then shifting his gaze to Kurt. "Just give me your name."

"Kurt," Rachel supplied when he didn't answer immediately.

Cooper's eyes narrowed slightly, and he studied Kurt's face more intently. "Kurt...?"

"Hummel," Kurt said dully. There was no point. Blaine probably hadn't put aside any lingering thoughts for him. Blaine probably wouldn't even remember Kurt's name. There was no point.

"Kurt Hummel?" Cooper asked, an intense look in his eyes.

Kurt nodded, wondering where this was going.

"A word of advice," Cooper said slowly. "You stay the hell away from my brother, Kurt Hummel." And with that, he turned on his heel and strode back into the kitchen, leaving a bewildered Kurt and Rachel staring after him.