One Year Later

Blaine trudged up the stairs, his feet leaden with weariness. The bright, early-morning sun seemed too bright to his bleary eyes. He couldn't remember being this tired since the arduous, week-long initiation that the Warblers enjoyed putting new members through.

He stifled a yawn and tried to focus on putting one step in front of the other. The problem was that he hadn't gotten much sleep for the past week, what with the long hours of preparatory lectures his father had made him sit through— that, and the thrills of anticipation that curled in his stomach every night as he tried to rest. He was supposed to be ready for work, and instead he felt like collapsing and sleeping for a month or two.

He stopped walking as he reached the door and took a deep breath, trying to calm the sudden flurry of nerves flying around inside of him. This was it. He was home. He raised his hand, hesitated, then knocked firmly on the door. He waited, but no one came to answer. Maybe it was too early— it was only six, after all. His father had wanted him to arrive early so he could check in with the firm before the majority of the employees arrived, but maybe it would be better if he—

The door opened, startling him. He only had a second to feel his face split into a wide grin before he was tackled by a guy with the tamed but ferocious affection of a bear cub raised by humans.

"BLAINE!"

"Whoa!" Blaine laughed as he stumbled back. "Watch out, you'll knock me over." He steadied himself on the suitcases he had set behind him, then, slightly out of breath, looked up to fully see his attacker.

Coop hadn't changed much in a year. His hair was still frustratingly perfect, his laugh lines were still a constant presence framing his mouth, and his eyes were as bright as ever, as if he were privy to some private joke. He was staring at Blaine now with eyes full of mingled confusion and jubilation. For once, the joke was on Cooper. Blaine reveled in the event.

"But I thought— why aren't you— what are you doing here?" Cooper asked, stumbling over his words as he held Blaine by the shoulders to get a better look at him. Blaine knew he probably didn't live up to memory; he had changed, in more ways than one.

"Nice to see you again, too," Blaine said dryly. "What've you been up to for a year? Me, I've been fine. Thanks so much for asking."

Cooper rolled his eyes. "Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Blaine." He paused, took a breath, then rushed his next words. "Look, I'm sorry I couldn't come down for Christmas—"

"Or Thanksgiving," Blaine pointed out, doing his best to keep a petulant tone from creeping into his words.

"Or Thanksgiving," Cooper agreed, guilt stealing onto his face.

"Or my birthday."

"I'm sorry, kid," Cooper said, sounding so genuinely apologetic that Blaine didn't even have it in him to chastise his brother for the nickname. "I've been keeping really busy with the restaurant. Anyway, you know how much I hate..." He trailed off, vaguely waving his hand around. "Everything. With him."

There was no need to ask which him Cooper was referring to.

"I do, too," Blaine said quietly. "But I didn't really have a choice in the matter."

Cooper looked stricken, and Blaine immediately hated himself for making everything about him when he hadn't seen Coop in a year. "Blaine—

"It's fine." Blaine held up his hand to stop any further apologies. He shouldn't have vented his anger onto his brother; it wasn't Cooper's fault. "Look, I'm just happy to be here now. Let's focus on that."

Cooper forced a smile. "Right. Sounds good. Let's go inside, it's freezing out here."

Blaine moved to pick up his luggage, but Cooper insisted on carrying it inside for him. He followed helplessly as Cooper struggled to carry both suitcases and a duffle bag into his apartment.

"So, " Cooper huffed, "how long are you— Jesus Christ, what did you pack?— how long are you staying?"

Blaine shrugged. "I'm not really sure. I guess until Dad decides I'm not useful here anymore."

Cooper somehow managed to pull the luggage over the threshold and shove it against the wall. He let out a whoosh of breath, then collapsed on the floor. "You couldn't pay me to be up this early every day," he groaned, dramatically wiping invisible sweat off of his forehead. He looked up at Blaine, who was still standing awkwardly by the open door, unsure of what to do with himself. "Well, close the door and sit down," he ordered, patting the ground next to him.

"On the floor?"

"Oh, come on." Cooper glared at him. "Are you really such a high and mighty lawyer that you can't share a bit of floor with your oldest and dearest brother?"

"One, I'm not a lawyer. I'm a consultant. Two, you're my only brother," Blaine pointed out.

"All the more reason to do some quality, criss-cross-applesauce bonding with me." Cooper narrowed his eyes at Blaine, his mouth a pathetic pout. "Saturdays are for sitting. And for not wearing pants. You've already broken one of those rules." His eyes stared accusingly at Blaine's suit.

"I have a meeting to go to soon," Blaine explained. "I don't want to ruin my suit..."

Cooper snorted, but allowed Blaine to sit on the sofa without mocking him any further. "So, suits and meetings. What is it exactly that you're doing here?"

"Dad wants me to supervise the set-up of the New York branch," Blaine said. "Make sure it gets on its feet, runs smoothly. Things like that."

"Sounds fascinating," Cooper said, his eyebrows raised.

Blaine frowned. "It is, actually. I've really had a lot of... fun... working on the, uh..." He stopped, meeting Cooper's eyes defensively before letting out a sigh. "Okay, no, it sucks. But that's what I do now. Can't be helped."

"At least Dad's trusting you with a lot of responsibility," Cooper commented, obviously trying to lighten Blaine's mood. "He wouldn't let me near the business with a hundred-foot pole."

Blaine laughed. "Yeah, right. He hasn't wasted any time telling me how much more suited you would be to the job— and you haven't even been trained to do it. He hasn't trusted me with anything. I'm basically a glorified babysitter. They don't really need me. I think it was Mom's idea to send me here. She probably thought it would make me happy."

Cooper looked sharply at Blaine, but didn't say anything. He stood up and crossed to the suitcases lined against the wall, absentmindedly playing with the straps for a moment before he finally turned back to Blaine. "How long do you think you'll be babysitting? I'd take a guess based on your amount of luggage, but I'm sure it's fifty percent bowties."

Blaine ignored the jibe. "Maybe a year. Maybe more, maybe less. It's all up to him."

Cooper nodded, then glanced at his watch. "Well, since I'm up, I think I'm going to head over to the restaurant. I've got some stuff to take care of. You want to tag along?"

Blaine stood up and nodded, eager to visit the restaurant again. Then he remembered the suit he wore and all that it entailed. "No, I can't," he said, disappointed. "I have to head over to the firm in an hour."

"Well, why not stop by for the dinner shift tonight? I bet Santana would love to see you again. Maybe you can even wait a few tables. You know—" He ran his eyes over Blaine's figure, critically encompassing the gel in his hair and the suit. "—for old times' sake."

"That sounds great," Blaine said. And really, it did. As much as New York was his home, he felt slightly out of place. Maybe it was just being away for a year. He had changed. All he wanted was for life to return to what it had been before. Maybe going back to Cooper's and going through the old motions would help.

"Hey, did you bring your guitar?" Cooper asked, his eyes brightening. "I haven't heard you perform in awhile! Maybe next Saturday, you can—"

Blaine was shaking his head before Cooper even finished. "I don't think so."

"What?"

"I didn't bring my guitar," Blaine said. "And anyway, I think I've outgrown that sort of thing."

"That sort of thing," Cooper repeated incredulously. "You love music! You love performing!"

"Loved," Blaine corrected. "Past-tense, Coop. That was fun when I was younger, but it's way past time for me to grow up."

Cooper stared at him so long that Blaine felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

"What?"

Cooper bit his lip, then tugged Blaine toward him and enveloped him in a hug. Blaine tried to pull away after a moment, but Cooper refused to let go.

"What is wrong with you?" Blaine asked, allowing his arms to fall to the side as Cooper maintained the one-sided embrace.

"Nothing. I just miss you."

"You mean you missed me, Coop. Past-tense, remember? I'm right here."

Cooper shook his head where it rested near Blaine's, muttering something that was too muffled against the close contact for Blaine to make out. A second later, Cooper grimaced and pushed Blaine away.

"Blech." He shook his head again, this time in disgust. "I think my tongue is burning in agony, but I can't tell, because it's going numb now." He stuck out his tongue and scrubbed at it with his fingers. "What's with the gel? I haven't seen you use this much product in your hair since high school."

Blaine glanced away. "Dad wants me to look the part."

Cooper reached out an arm as if to put it on Blaine's shoulder, but halfway there, he dropped it back to his side. "Come on," he said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "I'll give you a ride to your meeting. But you‘re coming back here before you come to Cooper’s. I don‘t want you dripping gel in people’s food."

Blaine rolled his eyes, but nodded. “Deal.“

“Let’s go, then.“

Blaine checked to make sure his suit wasn't wrinkled before following Cooper out of the apartment.

Rachel sat down in the chair across from Jesse and smiled widely at him. For some reason, he didn't return the smile. Instead, he looked around him, his eyes shifty and distant.

"What's wrong?" She covered his hand with hers, prompting him to look at her.

"I thought you said we couldn't eat here because Kurt comes here a lot."

Rachel shook her head, her smile returning. She thought it had been something important. "No, we're fine. I have it on good authority that Kurt doesn't come to Cooper's anymore. For some reason, the owner hates him," she laughed. "He really—"

"Are you embarrassed by me?" Jesse suddenly asked, his eyes darker under Cooper's dim lighting.

"What?" Rachel asked, aghast. "Of course not! Why would you even say that?"

Jesse raised his eyebrows. "If you're not embarrassed, then why are we still sneaking around? It's been a year, Rachel, but you're still acting like you'll be ruined if anyone sees us together."

"No, it's not like that," she hurried to say. "I love you, Jesse. You know I do." She tried to tighten her fingers around his hand, but he pulled away from her grasp.

"Then why all the secrecy?" he persisted, frowning.

"I—" Rachel stopped, sighed. "I don't know. I just... I don't think Kurt would understand. I don't want him to judge me for— well, for dating you. Again."

"Because of high school?" Jesse fixed his gaze on her, his eyes serious. "We're all different people now, Rach. Things changed."

"I know," Rachel said, nodding slowly, "but—"

"Can I start you two out with something to drink?"

Rachel stopped mid-sentence and turned to see a waiter holding a menu pad and staring at them expectantly with startlingly familiar hazel eyes. She knew this guy. His hair was a bit longer than when she had seen him at auditions, but she knew those eyes. She stared, shocked, watching those eyes light up first with recognition and then with the frozen gaze of a deer in headlights. "Blaine?" she asked, astonishment underlining her voice.

"Rachel?" he breathed out, his words shaky as they left him.

"You two know each other?" Jesse glanced warily between them, but Rachel had other concerns besides reassuring her boyfriend.

"How many Blaines does Cooper employ?" Rachel asked, her words running over Blaine's repeated, "Anything to drink?"

An awkward pause settled over them, muting them both, until Jesse broke it. "I'd like an ice tea," he offered up. "But hold the ice, please."

Blaine ignored him, choosing instead to look at Rachel with daggers in his eyes. "I'm surprised Kurt didn't tell you that I work here," Blaine said coldly. "I figured you two would have had a nice little laugh about me."

Rachel blinked. "What are you talking about?" She wasn’t used to seeing Blaine looking so antagonistic. Granted, she had only met him once, but he had been so friendly and sweet back then. Maybe there was some truth to Kurt’s recounted tale of their date and what a jerk Blaine had been.

"Can somebody please explain what's going on?" Jesse asked, his voice particularly loud compared to the hushed tones of Rachel and Blaine. "Or at least get me an iced tea?"

Rachel looked at Blaine helplessly, but he was staring down at his menu pad with a stormy expression on his face. "He went on a date with Kurt a long time ago," she explained to Jesse. "It didn't go very—"

"He stood me up!" Blaine interrupted, his voice raised and prickling. "If that's what you mean by it didn't go very well. Was that the plan? He sends you in to collect guys for him, and he picks whichever one he wants and abandons the others?"

"What?" Rachel shook her head, provoked by Blaine's accusing tone. "He didn't abandon you! He told me all about his date with—"

"I waited for an hour, Rachel. Then I saw him eating with some other guy. I didn't realize the guy I saw was Kurt until later, but now I know. And then he comes back here and— and he thinks he can just—" Blaine stopped, his face flushed.

"Seriously, what's going on?" Jesse asked irritably. "Rachel?"

"Jesse—" Rachel started, exasperated.

"Everything okay here?"

Rachel looked back up, where a waitress had materialized next to Blaine and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Berry?" The waitress fixed her eyes on Rachel, her mouth opening in a small 'o.'

"Santana!" Rachel breathed, relieved. Maybe she could clear things up.

"You know her?" Blaine asked Santana, looking as if he had been betrayed.

"Do you know everyone here?" Jesse asked, looking between Rachel, Blaine, and Santana.

Rachel ignored him. "Santana, you were here when Kurt had dinner with Blaine, right?" She looked at Santana imploringly. "Tell him!"

"No," Blaine said before Santana could respond, "tell her how long I waited for Kurt to show up!"

Santana glanced between Blaine and Rachel, her brow furrowed in confusion. She worried at her lower lip for a moment, then slowly nodded. "I think I know how to get to the bottom of this."

"Can I please get an iced tea?" Jesse asked.

Kurt took a moment to stretch, lifting his arms up and behind his head until he felt a satisfying tug in his back. After shaking his torso a bit, he leaned back over his desk and brought his pencil back down to caress paper. This was one of his favorite parts of working on Wicked. He loved doing character sketches for the outfits. There was something extremely satisfying in being trusted by Susan Hilferty to create outfits. Even more satisfying was the process of creating something from his own mind and watching the creations slowly unfold from his imagination and into something tangible in the costume department. Susan was surprisingly open to his ideas; he had assumed that she would take over most aspects, seeing as she had worked on Wicked before, but instead, she was giving him a lot of room to try out his designing wings.

He was working on one of Elphaba's intial drab costumes now. He had to work on Elphaba whenever Rachel went out. He had learned from experience that she had an uncanny ability to sense when he was working on Wicked and would stand over his shoulder while he did Elphaba, insisting that he add some Rachel Berry flare to it. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that the part would probably go to a more established Broadway talent. The auditions were opening up on Tuesday, and they were all she had been talking about for months. Anyway, there was no harm in letting Rachel dream a bit.

Kurt filled in the shading on Elphaba’s dress with his pencil, allowing his thoughts to wander as he did so. He hadn’t realized how much work went into simply planning to put on a musical. It had been fun, yes, but he was itching to actually start things. He was there for Costume Design, of course, but his high school dreams of becoming a Broadway star kept resurfacing, keeping him interested in every aspect of the process of putting on a show.

Finally, after a year of ceaseless working, they were ready to start casting. He didn’t know many of the production crew yet, since his work had been planted firmly in the Costume Department, but working with Susan was a dream. It had taken him awhile to feel comfortable speaking his mind without filtering his words, but now that he had, they had an easy rapport between them. He had learned more working under Susan than he had throughout the entirety of his college career.

Kurt’s work and thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone, the first sound other than the scratching of his pencil against his sketch pad that he had heard since Rachel left earlier.

He picked up his cell and glanced at the screen. It was Rachel. That’s weird. He hadn’t expected for her to call him. She had said she would be out late, probably on a date with James.

Kurt hit the accept button and held his phone up to his ear. “Hello?”

“Kurt?” Rachel’s voice was flustered and excited. He heard the muffled sounds of chatter in the background; she was probably out at dinner.

“Who else?” Kurt tapped his pencil against his desk impatiently. “Listen, Rachel, if this is about the auditions again, I’m going to kill you. I already told you—”

“No, no, I have a question,” Rachel said quickly.

“I’m kind of busy, Rach,” Kurt replied, glancing at the papers on his desk.

“It’ll only take a second,” she promised.

“Fine. Shoot.”

“Remember when you went on a date with that guy I set you up with?”

“How could I forget?” He pursed his lips, remembering the unpleasant night of over a year ago.

“Okay, I need you to describe that guy for me,” she said.

Kurt frowned. “Why?”

“Just do it!”

He sighed. He hated when Rachel got into one of her frequent bossy moods. The best thing to do in these situations was whatever she asked. “Well, there’s not much more to say than what I did before. He was kind of sleazy. A jerk. Really pushy with the compliments and innuendos. Um...”

“His looks, Kurt!” Rachel said, her voice getting higher-pitched with her agitation.

“Oh. Okay,” Kurt muttered, resisting the urge to demand that Rachel tell him what was going on. “He had kind of longish brown hair and these deceivingly trustworthy, big brown eyes. Um... I don’t really remember much else.”

“That’s okay,” Rachel said, her tone filled with what sounded like triumph, though Kurt couldn’t imagine why that would be. “Okay, now I need you to describe the Blaine you kissed.”

“Rachel—” Kurt started, fed up with her inexplicable insistence.

“Please, Kurt.”

He shook his head in exasperation, forgetting that she couldn’t see him. “Well,” he began, finding it much easier to conjure up the image of the man he had obsessed over for a brief period of time, “he was really, really cute.”

“Specifics, Kurt,” Rachel reminded him.

“I’m getting there, Rachel,” he said, mocking her tone. “I mean, he was really cute, but it wasn’t the first thing you noticed about him, you know? He’s a bit on the shorter side, but it’s the way that he carries himself that catches your attention. It’s like he doesn’t think much of himself, but all you have to do is look at him and you know he’s something special.” Kurt got lost in the memory, forgetting that Rachel was on the other line. All he could see was Blaine. “He has this adorable laugh that kind of... bursts out of him, like his body finds things funny before his brain does. His hair is really curly— not like how it was in high school, all gelled down. It looks so soft. I wanted to run my fingers through it. And— his eyes. His eyes were... beautiful. Green, with little flecks of gold in them. You could get lost in those eyes...”

Rachel was silent on the other line, and Kurt came back to himself with a small cough. “That’s, um... that’s it,” he finished, embarrassed.

“Oh,” Rachel breathed, sounding as awed as if she had had a revelation. “I have to go, Kurt! I’ll talk to you later.”

“Wait, why—”

He heard a click and then a long dial tone. She had hung up on him. What was that about? he wondered, perplexed.

With a shrug, he picked up his sketch pad again and resumed his work.

“So, there must have been a mix-up,” Rachel explained, smiling.

Santana had left to cover her tables and the two tables that Blaine had been working on. Jesse was nursing an iced tea and looking bored. Rachel was looking up at Blaine with shining, hopeful eyes, but he didn’t feel nearly as enthused as she looked. What did all of this mean for him, and for Kurt?

“You’re saying some random guy just... intercepted my date with Kurt?” he asked, skeptical. Why would someone do that? How could they have allowed that to happen?

“It sounds weird,” Rachel admitted. “But it’s the only explanation! I knew something was up when Kurt told me about his date. I mean, you seemed really nice when I met you, so it didn’t make sense when Kurt said the guy he went on a date with was a jerk.” She looked so desperate for him to believe her that he couldn’t help but trust her words.

“So neither of us realized that we were supposed to meet each other before,” Blaine mused, mostly to himself.

“Exactly.” Rachel nodded. “It was just a huge mistake.”

Blaine didn’t say anything. Instead, he stayed quiet, processing the information. He and Kurt were supposed to go on a date, set up by Rachel. Instead, Kurt had ended up dating a guy he had thought was Blaine, while the actual Blaine had been left alone, thinking he had been stood up. They had finally met each other at Cooper’s, and liked each other, but neither of them had realized who the other truly was. And now, a year later, Blaine happened to run into the very girl who had set them up. It was enough to make his head hurt.

“You have to believe me,” Rachel was saying. “I know Kurt. He would never stand anyone up. And you should have heard the way he was talking about you just now. I think he still has feelings for you.” She slapped her hand over her mouth and winced. “But you didn’t hear that from me. He’d kill me if he knew I just said that.”

Blaine nodded, still preoccupied.

“So you believe me?” Rachel asked.

“I— yes,” Blaine said slowly. “As bizarre as this all is, I believe you.”

Rachel clapped her hands excitedly. “This is great! I can’t wait to explain all of this to Kurt! You two can finally meet like you were supposed to, and go on a real date, and... why are you shaking her head?” she asked, trailing off in confusion.

“I can’t— we can’t— I need you to keep this a secret,” Blaine told her, conflicted. He wanted to see Kurt again. He really, really wanted to. But he knew he couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right. Not yet. Not now.

“Why?” Rachel had such a wounded look on her face, you would think he was breaking up with her.

“I just... I need to sort through some things. It’s complicated,” Blaine said evasively. “Please promise me you won’t tell him who I am, or mention anything about what happened last year.”

Rachel looked unconvinced, but she nodded nevertheless. She looked down at her menu, then back up at Blaine, brightening up. “Well, you should take down my number! And Kurt’s, too. Just in case you change your mind,” she said officiously. She waited until Blaine had his pen poised over the menu pad, then recited both numbers for him.

Blaine took them down dutifully, but he doubted he would be calling either number any time soon.

“Are you staying in New York?” Rachel asked, thankfully changing the subject.

“Yeah, for awhile,” Blaine said.

Rachel picked up her purse and began rifling through it. “I know it’s in here somewhere,” she murmured as she fished around inside of it. “Oh!” She pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to Blaine.

“What is it?” he asked, taking it from her.

“A flyer for Wicked,” she said, obviously thrilled.

He unfolded the paper and saw the familiar logo of Elphaba and Glinda spread over it.

“Auditions are Tuesday,” Rachel told him. “You have to audition! I haven’t heard you sing since Sectionals in high school, but you were great then. And from what I heard from Kurt, you’re even more amazing now.”

“I’m... I’m flattered, really, but I don’t sing anymore,” Blaine said, holding the flyer back out to her.

She shook her head, refusing to take it. “Keep it. You might change your mind. Nobody who sings like you did ever truly stops singing. It’s in your blood.”

Blaine thought this was a bit pretentious of her to assume, this being the longest conversation they’d had since they had met a year ago, but he accepted the flyer anyway and shoved it in his pocket just to be polite. He knew he wouldn’t be auditioning, though; he had his priorities now, as his father reminded him daily. He had the firm now. He didn’t need to sing.

Jesse sat up and pushed his iced tea to the front of the table. “Can we order now?” he asked grumpily.

Blaine took down their order, but his mind was completely occupied on someone else.

Kurt Hummel.