By 11 pm the bar was slammed.  Blaine and Mike were filling drink orders as quickly as they could, and the press of people seemed to get tighter and tighter.  In one of the largest and most cosmopolitan cities in the world, Blaine couldnt believe that so many people would show up to hear and play the songs of a twangy, country western has-been. 

Sam was leading about a dozen guitarists, two fiddle players, a drummer, and an accordion player (of all things) in a round of "If There was a Way," while a cowboy hatted crooner sang into the microphone.  The crowd was drinking, dancing, laughing, singing, and generally in merry spirits. It boded well for the books.

There was a small lull at the bar, and Dani--Blaines favorite waitress--shouted across to him, "Blaine, I have a ten-top.  Can you grab the three-top at Table 6?" 

"Sure," Blaine smiled at her, wiping his hands on a bar towel that he then tossed across his shoulder and grabbing an order pad.  He wended his way through the crowd, his vision largely obscured by the press of laughing, chatting people.  

As he drew near to the table, he clicked his pen to the "on" position and looked down at his pad.  Plastering a smile on his face he said, "Hi, what can I..."

His voice trailed off as he lifted his head.  Seated around Uncle Charlies favorite table was Rachel, Santana, and Kurt. 

Kurt. 

In a voice that pitched clearly audible above the noisy crowd, Rachel rattled off a series of questions too quickly for Blaine to answer, "Oh my God, Blaine, is that you?  Your hair.  Wheres your gel?  The...what are you doing here?"

"Hi, Hobbit; nice beard.  Are you Amish now?" Santana grinned in her way that still came across as a smirk. 

Blaine barely registered either woman; instead, his gaze was glued to his ex-boyfriend, who looked more beautiful than Blaine remembered.  Did he look this good in high school?  Blaine didnt think so.  Blaine felt instantly self-conscious and wondered just how wildly his hair was waving around.  He looked down at his sweatshirt and winced as he noticed a large stain from a rum and Coke that a waitress has accidentally tipped on him earlier in the evening. 

There should be a rule that when you run into exes they will have gained a hundred pounds, lost all their hair, and grown an extra arm, while you should be just returned tanned and refreshed from a friends beach wedding where you wore your best Armani tux. 

Instead, of course, Kurt looked stunning.  His cheekbones and nose created a prominent frame for a face of perfect pale skin and piercing blue eyes.  His wide mouth--always Blaines favorite of Kurts features--looked moist and kissable.  He was immaculately dressed in a creamy cashmere sweater that begged to be touched and soft, woolen pants in the palest gray.  He looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine rather than in a dive bar in Brooklyn. 

The bastard. 

Blaine reached up a hand to self-consciously smooth his crazy locks and wondered ruefully how long it had been since hed last trimmed his beard.  Two weeks?  Three?  His other arm wrapped around his chest to try to hide the worst of the stain. 

"Hi, Blaine," Kurt said softly, his surprise clearly evident in his eyes.  

"So, do you work here?" Rachel asked.  "Weve never been here before, but when we all got the flyers, we thought wed try it out." 

Blaines mouth opened and closed a couple of times.  He couldnt form words.  He couldnt do anything, because the whole damn world was shaking or spinning or something.  It was just too much. 

"Hey, Boss Man," Dani chirped, bouncing up beside Blaine, who was still standing mute, gaping like a fish.  "I got my ten-top.  I can take over again, now, if youll make my drinks."  She pushed an order slip toward Blaine, who didnt take it.  In fact, it wasnt possible; he couldnt take the piece of paper--or anything else--because he was paralyzed by his existential crisis.

"Blaine, are you the bartender?" repeated Rachel. 

"Hes the owner," Dani corrected.  "Arent you, Big B?"  She bumped Blaine with her hip, which snapped him out of his catatonic state as the world rushed back in and righted itself with a sickening jolt. 

"Sorry."  Blaine shook his head.  "Sorry."  He gave a forced, bright smile to Rachel and Santana.  "Its good to see you."  He turned his head to Kurt, his smile wavering just the smallest bit with uncertainty.  "Hi, Kurt," he said more softly. 

"Blaine?" Dani asked, snapping her fingers. 

Blaine gave her a startled look.

She shoved the order toward him again.  "Ive got ten thirsty people on Table 8.  Maybe you can help with that?"

Blaine shook his head again in a futile effort to clear the buzzing now between his ears, "Uh, sure.  Of course."  He snatched the paper from her hand and with a hasty goodbye to the table, he returned to the bar in a daze.  Working on autopilot, he filled the drink orders for Table 8, placing each libation on a tray.

Minutes later, Dani returned with the drink orders from Table 6.  As she hoisted the tray of drinks for her ten-top onto her shoulder, she asked Blaine,  "What was that about?" 

"Just, uh, just some people I used to know." 

"They seemed nice.  They asked about you."

"What did you tell them?"

"That youre the best boss in New York City, and that youre planning to give me a raise next week."

Blaine cocked an eyebrow. 

"Just a little one," she winked.  "What did they mean about fliers?  They said they got a flier for the bar.  Is that a new thing Sam is trying?"

Blaine shrugged, "Its the first time Ive heard about it."  He nodded toward the drinks melting on the tray, "Order up."

Dani flashed him a wry smile and then turned away to deliver her drinks. 

Blaine picked up the order slip from Table 6:  a shot of tequila, a lemon drop, and a glass of Cabernet.  It didnt take a rocket scientist to figure which of his former friends had ordered which drink.  He prepared the lemon drop, grimacing at the sticky residue of sugar it left on his hands, and then he poured the tequila and the wine.  Looking around, he saw that Dani was stuck with yet another big table, so he lifted the small tray over his head, took a deep breath, and headed back to Table 6. 

Arriving at the table, he sat the lemon drop in front of Rachel, handed the shot of tequila to Santana, and placed the large glass of red wine on the table in front of Kurt. 

"Whats the story with the hot waitress?" Santana asked, while Rachel said over her, "We need to catch up.  Its been ages.  You should sit down and talk to us."

Blaine gave them a tight smile and glanced back at the bar.  Mike was more than capable of handling the bar by himself, even on their busiest night, and these people had been his friends.  Moreover, they had never done anything to him, so it would be rude not to talk to them; in fact, he wasnt sure why he felt so tense.  He should be happy to see them. 

"Uh, sure," he made himself respond. 

Table 6 was a booth.  Since Rachel and Santana were sitting on one side, the only available seat was next to Kurt.  Kurt slid closer to the wall, patted the seat next to him, and gave Blaine a cautious look.    

"I loved your flier," Rachel noted as Blaine gingerly slid in next to Kurt.  "A sessions bar is such a cool idea--more fun than karaoke."

Blaine was going to ask about the fliers, but Santana spoke first.  "How did you come to own a bar?" she asked. 

Blaine cleared his throat to try to clear the lump away that was threatening to cut off all of his oxygen, "I inherited it from my Uncle Charlie five or six years ago."

"The Uncle Charlie who kept telling you to join the Army so they could make a man out of you?" asked Kurt.

Blaine nodded.

 "Wow."  Kurt looked around the bar and shrugged, "It suits you."

Blaine had no idea how to take that comment, but as he opened his mouth to ask, Sam bounded over to the table with a grin that covered his whole face. 

"Hey, guys!  Dani said that some of our old friends were here.  How did you find out about this place?"

"Did you send out some advertising fliers?" Blaine asked him. 

Sam looked puzzled and shook his head, "No."  Then he shrugged it off and put his hand around Rachels wrist and tugged her to her feet, giving her a big hug and a hundred watt smile, "Youve got to come sing ‘A Thousand Miles from Nowhere.  You, too, Santana.  Oh, and you have to meet Dani.  Shes a hot lesbian, too."

Blaine groaned inwardly.  Honestly, Sam had no filter.    

With an apologetic look to Kurt, both women trailed off, captured in the undertow that was Sam.  They were immediately swallowed up by the crowd. 

Blaine turned to look at Kurt.  A day ago he would have told anyone who asked that he had gotten over his first love a long time ago.  It was so many years in the past; how could he not have moved on?  Sure, he wrote to him all the time, but not to the real, living, breathing Kurt who smelled of lavender and looked so good.  He wrote to an imaginary guy.  The Kurt right in front of him made him feel at sea, like the floor itself was rolling under him.  It was hard to breathe and impossible to think. 

Blaine realized suddenly that Kurt might feel the same way.  

"Look," Blaine said, "Its really busy.  I better get back to the bar and help Mike."  He started to slide out of the booth, but he paused and looked back, "You look really great, Kurt; Im glad I got to see you again."

Before he could clear the booth, the glass of red wine, having sat undisturbed all this time, suddenly floated across the surface of the table as if by unseen hands and tipped into Kurts lap.