"Wow," Blaine responded as he ran his fingers through his sweaty curls.  "No guy has ever taken me dancing before." 

"Seriously?"  Kurt had a hard time imagining anyone who wouldnt want Blaine grinding up against him, all hot and sweaty on a dance floor. 

"Kris, you know what American guys are like.  Dancing is too...I dont know...something.  Like it threatens their masculinity.  Youd think gay men would be better, but not the guys Ive dated." 

Startled by the use of his pseudonym, Kurt took a moment to collect himself and consider what Blaine had said.  He opened his mouth to finally confess, but then he reconsidered.  Actually, now that he thought about it, no guy had ever taken him dancing, either.  Even some guys he had met in his dance classes were oddly averse to going to clubs.

It sucked.  Kurt loved to dance.  Clearly Blaine did, too. 

Okay, just a little longer with this charade, he told himself.  He would take Blaine dancing, because Blaine deserved to go dancing.  (Yes, thats why.)  Then he would tell him everything. 

And then he would spend the rest of his days filled with longing and regret, while Blaine lived his life as the perfect husband for some other guy--one who wasnt a complete douchebag like Kurt. 

That seemed right. 

He pulled Blaine into his arms and kissed the tip of his nose.  "Where am I taking you dancing, Honey?  Do you want to go to a club?  To a ballroom?  Do you want to swing dance?"

Blaine blushed and looked away.  "Really, anything is fine," he replied. 

Kurt reached down and tilted his face back toward him. "Blaine, be honest with me."  Because one of us should be.  "Where do you want to go?"

Blaine looked down, unable to meet Kurts eyes.  "My friend Sam is from the South.  Hes really into this kind of folk dancing called contra.  Ive never done it, but hes shown me videos on YouTube, and it looks fun.  He was going to come over here tonight before he went.  Thats why I got the donuts.  I could text him and have him meet us there instead." 

Blaine added quickly, looking up into Kurts eyes, "But if you dont want to go, I totally understand.  We could do something else.  Swing dancing is fun.  Or a club.  We could go clubbing."

Kurt put his hands to both sides of Blaines face.  "Blaine.  Blaine.  Well do the contra dance thing.  Im sure itll be great." 

"Sam says its a blast.  He says Ill really like it because the men get to dance with the men a lot.  But..." Blaine gave Kurt a wry expression, "Sams girlfriend wont go.  She says its nothing but hippie chicks and hillbillies.

"Wow," Kurt said, at a loss for words.  Still he didnt care if they danced the hokey pokey or the bunny hop.  He was going to get to spend a little more time with Blaine before he had to stop being Kris Kringlemann, and he once again morphed into Kurt Hummel, giant lying asshat.

He swung his legs off the bed, and then he paused.  "Um, Honey?  I just realized that I have no clothes." 

"Oh.  Oh." Blaine snapped his fingers.  "When the guys came with the flooring, my housekeeper was right behind them.  I asked her to come back another time to clean, but I also had her take your clothes to a one-hour service and bring them back."  Blaine looked at the ceiling as if thinking.  "Um, Im pretty sure Sam said that it didnt matter what people wear.  Its pretty casual.  I mean, they dance in a gym at a church.  So you could even borrow some of my stuff if we can find anything you like thatll fit you."

Kurt had a feeling this might be the weirdest date ever.  

While they were waiting for the housekeeper to return with Kurts clothing, they donned robes and sweats and had sandwiches and fruit in the still-waiting-for-renovation kitchen.  It felt oddly domestic and comfortable.  They were both ravenous, and they were mostly occupied with eating; so there was little conversation--although they did continue a conversation of sorts with only their eyes and small smiles and occasional grins.

Kurt again considered telling Blaine the truth, but Blaine seemed so happy, and when Kurt was honest with himself, he knew he really didnt want the dream to end just yet.  He knew it was only going to get more difficult, but he found himself hoping that the "new Kurt" would be able to find a way to make it right.

And so it was that, when both men were dressed and presentable, Blaine blissfully led them out the door towards their next adventure.  They held hands on the subway to Manhattan, where Blaine guided them to The Church of the Village, which apparently held contra dances two nights a week. 

Kurt looked around the room with curiosity.  The women--and several of the men--were dressed in t-shirts and bright, garish, flowing skirts.  Some men were even in shorts, despite the winter.  Other dancers were dressed more normally, although everyone was pretty casual, particularly for New York.  A fiddler was warming up in the corner, and a man that Blaine explained was known as a "caller" was announcing that everyone should grab a partner and take hands four. 

Before Kurt had a chance to ask what "hands four" meant, two young women--obviously friends--grabbed Blaine and Kurt each by a hand and dragged them into a line with nine other couples.  Kurt did a quick count; eleven men and eleven ladies were on the dance floor.  The next thing he knew, he was being twirled and twisted down the dance floor, winding in and out of so many dancers and steps and patterns that, sure enough, by the end of the dance he had danced with all eleven ladies and most of the men.  When the music ended, Kurt was breathless, and Blaine was panting, pink-cheeked and smiling. 

"Sam was right--this is fun!" Blaine declared happily. 

"All this spinning is crazy," Kurt grinned, "but youre right--its also fun!" 

The caller announced a new dance, and Kurt and Blaine found themselves being dragged off again, this time in separate directions.  It was okay, though, because they knew that at some point during the dance, they would dance with each other. 

And they did.  Kurt got to take Blaines hand and they turned each other around and around. Kurts cheeks hurt because he was smiling so hard at Blaine, who grinned back just as broadly.  After spinning each other, they turned to meet other dance partners in the line.

It was pretty much non-stop dancing; Kurt could hardly tell when one round ended and another began.  Time flies when youre having fun, though, and it didnt seem that long before Kurt was sweating profusely.  He held up his hands in supplication and panted, "I need water!" leaving the dance floor and Blaine to visit the drinking fountain in the hallway. 

When he returned, he saw Blaine across the room talking to someone, but he couldnt quite make out the other person because of the milling dancers between them. Heading across the dance floor towards Blaine, he carefully threaded his way through the dancers, carefully watching where he placed his feet to make sure he didnt trip anyone or step on the their toes--especially since some of the dancers were barefoot.  He looked up as he neared Blaine and his companion and came to a dead stop just as he heard...

"Holy cow! Kurt Hummel!" a voice exclaimed loudly. 

Kurt stood, staring with alarm, as he saw that Blaine was talking to--of all people--Kurts high school friend, Sam Evans. Sam, in turn, was staring at Kurt with astonished eyes and grinning with delight with his big, let-the-cat-out-of-the-bag mouth. 

"No, Sam," Blaine laughed, "this is Kris Kringlemann."  Stunned, Kurt stood stock still, his own mouth agape.  Never in a million years had he suspected that Blaines friend, Sam, was his Sam, too.   

"Nah," Sam continued, oblivious to Kurts panic and Blaines confusion.  "Its Kurt Hummel--worlds greatest costume designer, last I heard.  God, Kurt, how are you?  Its been ages." He pulled Kurt into a hug as Kurt looked helplessly and hopelessly at Blaine.

"Um, no, Sam, hes an investment banker," Blaine tried again, beginning to look more doubtful.

Releasing Kurt, but keeping one arm around his shoulders, Sam grinned at Blaine.  "No way! The Kurt Hummel I know wouldnt be caught dead in finance! Who told you that? Someone mustve been trying to set you up. Kurts crazy talented and creative and one of the most honest and upfront people Ive ever known. Other guys try to convince you theyre something theyre not, but not Kurt.  You shouldve seen him, even in high school, strutting his stuff and daring the world to convince him he should be any different than he was!"  Sam turned to look at Kurt.  "Can you believe someone told Blaine youre a Wall Street suit?  You.  Jeez, Kurt, thats hysterical." 

"Kris?" Blaine asked in a quiet voice. 

"Kurt," Kurt corrected in almost a whisper, not looking directly at him.  "Im so, so sorry, Blaine." 

With that, he whirled around and pushed through the crowd, running through the door and out into the night.