Kurt is already sat at the kitchen table, sipping from a mug, when Mercedes stumbles in the next morning, blinking blearily.

"What time is it?" she asks, stifling a yawn with one hand.

"Quarter to nine."

"Ugh. Why am I up?"

"I wouldn't know," Kurt says mildly, watching Mercedes over the top of his mug, the warm ceramic pressed against his nose.

"Your coffee machine is too loud," Mercedes grumbles, glaring at it where it is sat in the corner. "Why are you up?"

"Because I have to go to work and, unlike you, my job requires me to be up before midday."

"You know I hate early mornings, Kurt. High school and college were bad enough."

Kurt laughs, careful to keep it pitched low and quiet to spare Mercedes' head. "I must agree with you there," he says, setting his mug down and standing up to pour Mercedes her own cup of coffee once the machine in the corner stops its whirring. He slides it across the table towards her and she grabs at it gratefully, taking a long gulp and sighing contentedly as she slips into a chair opposite Kurt.

"So," he says, steepling his slender fingers and looking at her, "what are your plans for your week's holiday?"

"Today and tomorrow are reserved for some serious sight-seeing, and tomorrow night I'm seeing a show; Thursday I'm going out for lunch; and I'm spending Friday with Rachel."

"Who are you having lunch with?" Kurt asks, his head tilted to one side as he tries to read Mercedes' expression.

She's silent for a moment, seeming unwilling to answer. Kurt waits patiently, not wanting to rush her. Eventually, she opens her mouth, swallows loudly, and whispers, "Sam."

"Sam Evans?" Kurt asks, one eyebrow raised. Mercedes nods. "Oh, 'Cedes…You know what happened last time you tried dating him."

"It crashed and burned, yes, Kurt, I know," Mercedes snaps, sounding tired, as if she's heard this speech before. She probably has, to be honest. "I just…I really like him, okay? I think I'm in love with him. He heard I was gonna be in New York, so he called me and asked to meet up. Kurt…" She pauses briefly, running her fingers through her hair. "I really want another chance with Sam, okay? Last time it didn't get a chance to work properly."

Kurt leans across the table and gives Mercedes the least awkward hug that he can manage. "Okay. It's okay. I'll be here, no matter what, all right? I really hope it works out for you, 'Cedes; you deserve it."

"Thank you, Kurt," Mercedes says, a little sniffle in her voice.

"Ugh, look at us!" Kurt says, wiping his eyes. "I do not have an excuse to be this emotional."

Mercedes laughs weakly, hiccoughing a little.

"I hope it works out with Sam, Mercedes, I really do," Kurt says, pulling back from their hug and looking at his friend intently. "But if it doesn't, it'll be okay. You have to promise me something."

"What?"

"On Friday night, Blaine's playing at this bar just off Seventh Avenue and he asked me to go. I meant to ask you last night but I forgot. You're coming with me, though, right? At the very least, it'll distract you from a day spent with Rachel."

Mercedes chuckles. "Okay, that sounds fun."

"You have to promise me, Mercedes. Whatever happens, you're coming with me on Friday," Kurt insists.

"Okay, okay, I promise!"

"Thank you," Kurt says. "Now, how about you go back to sleep, I go to work, and I'll see you tonight?"

"Sounds like a plan."

The week at work absolutely drags for Kurt. He is busy, up to his metaphorical eyeballs in paperwork and stupid questions, but hard work doesn't seem to make the time go any faster. He means every word on Tuesday when he tells Tina emphatically that it was the longest day in the history of forever; he ignores her laughter and refuses to take it back when he says precisely the same thing the next day. On Thursday, purely to stop himself going stir-crazy, he decides to take charge of settling in Joshua, the new intern who was interviewed by Finn on Monday. He seems like a nice kid (kid-! He's only two years younger than Kurt is!), friendly and quick to learn, if a little quiet. Kurt guides Joshua through everything he could conceivably be asked to do, which includes a detailed account of how to work the coffee machine.

They are sitting down to lunch together, and Kurt has finally gotten Joshua to open up and talk about himself. He explains that he went to NYU for English and has always wanted to be a journalist. Glee is perfect for him because he's musical too, as is his whole family – his mum and dad met at an audition for the first clarinet position in the Boston Philharmonia (neither of them got it); Joshua himself plays the cello; and his older sister Lucy is currently playing the lead in some off-Broadway musical about dog walkers in Central Park.

Kurt is just thinking that Finn did a good job in picking Joshua (he didn't meet the other potential applicant, but he read the letter he sent and he sounds like an arrogant jerk) when his phone rings shrilly, cutting Joshua off mid-sentence. Kurt shrugs apologetically and holds up a finger as he pulls his phone out and checks the caller ID: Mercedes. Kurt feels his stomach sink as he remembers that today is Mercedes' lunch date with Sam, and he answers the call apprehensively.

"Mercedes? What's the matter?"

The only answer he gets is a choked-off sob, and that makes Kurt really start to worry.

"'Cedes? Come on, please talk to me. You're okay, aren't you?"

Mercedes sobs louder on the other end of the connection and gasps wetly once or twice before wailing, "He's engaged!"

"I'm sorry, what?" Kurt can't believe what he's hearing.

"Sam! He's…he's engaged, Kurt. He's getting married in June and he just announced it, like it wouldn't mean anything to me; he wants us to be friends!"

"Okay. Okay, Mercedes, where are you?"

"The Starbucks on Eighth Avenue," Mercedes says, hiccoughing slightly.

"All right, I'll come and get you. Don't go anywhere. It'll be all right, 'Cedes, I promise."

Mercedes lets out a soft, weak, "Thank you" and hangs up. Kurt tucks his phone into his pocket again.

"Joshua," he says, turning to the quiet intern, who hasn't moved a muscle throughout Kurt's phone call with Mercedes, "I'm really sorry, but I have to go. We'll catch up tomorrow, okay?" Joshua nods and confirms that that's fine, seeming to have realised that something important is going on; Kurt is grateful for his tact. He leaves Joshua with Quinn and Tina for the afternoon (because the only other people in the office are Puck and Brittany and…no. Just no) and dashes out of the building as fast as is humanly possible, jumping into a cab he hails and praying that the traffic is decent for once.

It is easy enough to find Mercedes once Kurt reaches the Starbucks. She's sitting in the corner of the room, her eyes puffy, when Kurt walks over to her; no one is paying her any attention apart from a little girl with her blonde hair pulled back into pigtails, who looks at Mercedes worriedly and tugs on the hem of her mother's skirt. Her mother is on the phone, however, and ignores her daughter, pulling her skirt from the girl's grip.

"Mercedes?" Kurt says when he reaches his friend. She looks up at him, her eyes sparkling with tears, and he immediately gathers her close in a hug. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry." He pulls back and smoothes one hand over her hair. "Okay. It's going to be okay. We're going to go home and you're going to talk to me and cry about it; then we're going to watch Project Runway and eat a shit-load of ice cream, all right? Full-fat."

This has the desired effect, making Mercedes laugh weakly, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"You would do that for me?"

"Of course I would. You're one of my best friends, remember? Don't tell Rachel," Kurt says, dropping his voice to a whisper as if Rachel were there with them, "but you're my best friend."

Mercedes laughs again, a wet-sounding hiccough interrupting it, and she allows Kurt to help her to her feet, lead her outside and take her back to his apartment.

"I just don't understand why he asked me out to lunch just so that he could tell me he's getting married," Mercedes says, the sound a little muffled as she licks her spoon clean.

Kurt is torn between reacting instinctively and laying into Sam as viciously as possible, and being more neutral and keeping his criticisms for when Mercedes is calmer and more likely to agree than start crying again. As she continues speaking, he realises that he doesn't need to make that decision; he just needs to let her talk.

"I mean, he was so casual about it! Like I didn't mean anything to him and he shouldn't mean anything to me anymore." Mercedes sighs heavily and scowls as she swallows another mouthful of ice cream. "I just wanted us to have a proper chance."

"I know you did, boo," Kurt says. "But he doesn't deserve you, not if he can't see how amazing you are." He is a little hesitant, but he has to say it.

Mercedes licks at her spoon and slowly lets a smile cross her face. It is a tiny thing, nothing like her usual bright grin, but it is better than her sobbing in Kurt's arms.

"He doesn't, does he?" she says softly.

"No, no he does not," Kurt says, quick to encourage this confidence. "So, you remember what I said on Tuesday?"

"No…?"

"You're coming out with all of us on Friday. More to the point, you're going to flirt with all the guys who hit on you – because trust me, there will be a lot. Hopefully, that should prove to you that you're far too amazing for some who doesn't appreciate the brilliance that is Mercedes Jones."

"Okay, okay, I'll come. But it's only because I promised."

"That'll do, I suppose. Now, how about you put the TV on? I just need to send a text."

Mercedes nods and switches on the television, flicking through the channels, as Kurt pads out to his bedroom and rummages amongst the papers on his bedside table for his phone.

To: Blaine

Are your friends coming on Friday night?

From: Blaine

Yeah, I think so.

To: Blaine

Wes?

From: Blaine

Again, I believe so. Why?

To: Blaine

Ask the hard questions, why don't you :P

To: Blaine

My friend Mercedes just had her heart broken. She needs to have some fun and see that she's beautiful.

From: Blaine

I'm sorry :( But…where does Wes fit in?

To: Blaine

I want there to be one straight guy there who we didn't go to high school with and who I know isn't a psychopath.

From: Blaine

Haha! OK, well, I'll make sure he's there. See you on Friday xx

To: Blaine

Thank you. And I'm looking forward to it xx

Kurt wanders back into the living room to find Mercedes chuckling over an episode of some inane comedy. She looks up as he walks in, seeming much more content, and notices the slightly dopey smile on his face.

"Who were you texting?"

A tiny giggle bursts from between Kurt's lips and his grin gets wider, making Mercedes gasp in realisation.

"It was Blaine, wasn't it?" she says. "You were supposed to be entertaining me, and instead you were off flirting with your musician-slash-barista."

Kurt blushes a little, a deep rose-pink creeping along his cheekbones. "He's not my anything," he insists. "And besides, we weren't even really flirting. He just sent me a text with two kisses."

"Oooh!" Mercedes properly smiles for the first time in hours. "Look at you and lover boy, gettin' all cosy."

"Hey, I was asking questions relating to you getting a little something on Friday night!"

"Boo, you don't need to get all defensive. I'm happy for you."

"You sure?"

"Of course I am," Mercedes says. "You deserve to be happy after Dean was such a jerk. Now, come on - watch…whatever this is with me. I could use the company."

"Okay," Kurt says, slipping onto the sofa and snuggling against Mercedes' side. "But he's not my…lover, or anything like that. He's just a guy I know."

"Of course he is…"

"Oh, for goodness' sake, Kurt!"

"W-what?" Kurt shakes his head a little and blinks up at Quinn, who is standing over him, hands on her hips and her green-flecked eyes boring deep into his.

"Just go home already, would you?"

"What? No, I can't, I have work to do," Kurt protests.

"Well, you're not doing it here: you've been staring at the corner of the ceiling for the past ten minutes and I can almost see you mentally rifling through every item of clothing you own."

"Not every item…"

"Irrelevant." Quinn waves an idle hand. "Just go home, please? Go home and actually rifle through your wardrobe – you're freaking Josh out."

"What do you mean?"

"He called me because apparently you hadn't moved in quarter of an hour and he got worried."

"Oh." Kurt glances out at Joshua, perched behind the desk he's been assigned – close enough to Kurt, Quinn and Tina that he has a safety net should he need it, but far enough away that he is still independent; it is by far the best way to get a feel for his work, after all. Joshua raises his hand and waves at Kurt, who waves and smiles back. "Well, that was nice."

"Sure was."

"He seems like a sweet guy."

"He is," Quinn says. "He's sweet enough to worry that you might be having a seizure when actually you're just thinking about your date."

"It's not a date," Kurt says, with the air of someone who has had to say this several times already and anticipates having to so several more, despite the fact that he's not entirely certain that it isn't a date.

"Of course it's not. That's why you're stressing about what to wear so much. Look," Quinn says, "just go home. Tina and I can cover things from here. You need to take a step back sometimes."

"Okay, fine," Kurt says reluctantly. "I'll go."

Quinn smirks, holding out a hand to pull him to his feet before pushing him gently towards the door.

"Oh, go already," she teases as he stalls, dragging his feet.

"All right, all right, I'm going," he says, poking his tongue out at her. "Do me a favour, though?"

"Sure. What?"

"Get Joshua to come along tonight. I have a feeling he needs a night out even more than I do."

By the time Mercedes lets herself into Kurt's apartment at five that evening, all of Kurt's clothes are strewn around his bedroom and he is sat on the edge of his bed, completely bewildered. This is unusual: ordinarily, Kurt takes immaculate care of his very expensive clothes. Today, that doesn't really seem to matter – he's far too distracted to worry about creases.

"Mercedes," he wails, "help. Please."

She wanders into his room, then takes a step backwards over the threshold again in shock. "What the hell, Kurt?"

"I don't know what to wear tonight."

"But you always know what to wear."

"Not today." Kurt sighs, pressing the knuckle of his index finger into his forehead between his eyebrows. "I don't know, maybe I'm overthinking it, but everything looks weird on me. Help me?"

"Of course. Good job I worked out what I'm wearing last night."

She steps into the room again and begins to poke through pile of jeans draped over the chair in the corner.

"Pick your favourites," she says, holding them out to Kurt. He looks uncertain, but pulls out a slim, grey pair.

Mercedes' eyebrows shoot up. "That's the pair that are so tight you can barely move in them, aren't they?"

"Possibly…"

"You tryin' to make a point, boo?"

"Please tell me you didn't mean that the way I think you meant it," Kurt groans. Mercedes just laughs and rolls her eyes.

"If you can't recognise an innuendo when it's staring you in the face, that's not my fault," she says. "Now…it's cold out, but it'll be probably be quite warm inside so…shirt and waistcoat?"

"Of course. See, this is why I need you – I just can't think like that at the moment."

Mercedes stalks across the room, searching for the right piece. She eventually extracts it from the bedside table and hands it to Kurt. The shirt is deep blue, the material soft but the lines crisp. Kurt breathes a soft "Thank you" and tugs off his jumper, pulling on the shirt. He turns to Mercedes as he buttons it, head cocked to one side.

"Which waistcoat?" he asks.

Mercedes pulls out a light grey one from where it lies across Kurt's pillow.

"Are you sure?"

"I got you this far, right? I don't wear Technicolor zebra print anymore. Just trust me; you'll look fabulous."

Kurt slips it on and buttons it swiftly, standing up to examine the outfit in his mirror.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he says, throwing his arms around Mercedes in a tight hug. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome, honey," Mercedes says, squeezing Kurt in return. "You look gorgeous, like I said - Blaine won't be able to keep his hands off you. Now, just give me a minute to get changed, then we'll grab something to eat and go."

As soon as Kurt and Mercedes enter the bar at half-past seven, after bolting some food at the Thai place down the road (Kurt isn't stupid, he isn't going to drink on an empty stomach), they are met by a wall of sound from the group of Glee employees stood in the corner of the room. Most of them are already clutching drinks in their hands; Santana and Brittany are, surprisingly, the only ones who have so far abstained, but as they're currently chatting up the barman, Kurt doubts if that'll last very long.

Watching them all as he walks towards them, Kurt thinks that a stranger could tell a lot about their personalities from their drinks of choice. Puck and Lauren favour beers, though they drink different brands – Puck's is a sweeter blend, laced with hints of citrus fruit. Finn prefers rosé wine with a slightly dry, sharp undertone. The other girls are downing cocktails: Santana's has a sharp, bitter edge with an underlying sweetness; Brittany and Tina's are cloying and sugary, Britt preferring bright colours and ridiculous umbrellas; and Quinn, as she so often does, falls somewhere in between, filling the middle ground.

When the reach the group, Mercedes is immediately surrounded by them all, enveloped in their warmth. Kurt hovers on the outside for a moment before he, too, is pulled into the hug.

"Oh, it's good to see you again, Mercedes," Tina says. "You're going to have a brilliant time tonight." Kurt eventually decided to fill selected people in on the Sam Situation, coming to the decision that it would be better to have them know than for them to mention something accidentally that could set Mercedes off. She seems a lot better, even in just the day since Sam dropped his bombshell, but Kurt knows that she's still a little fragile and anything could make her snap.

"Speaking of Ms Jones having a fabulous time, I have to go and find some people," Kurt says. "I'll be back in a second." He waves briefly over his shoulder and scans the room for Blaine's friends from Warbling Away. He spots them across the bar and almost skips towards them; he can't explain it, but suddenly he feels bubbly and excited, his insides wriggling like lively snakes.

"Hi guys."

"Hello Kurt," says Jeff, the first to look up at Kurt after his greeting. He looks him over quickly, shaking his head from side-to-side once. "You seem…happy."

"Yeah, I guess…just looking forward to it, really."

"I see what you mean," mutters an unfamiliar voice from Nick's right-hand side. "He is as bad as Blaine. They're going to be unbearable."

"Um, hello?" Kurt says, glancing at the man who has spoken. He is dark-skinned with close-cropped hair, and seems taller than most of the others, folded into his seat in the corner between Nick and Trent.

"Oh, yes. Kurt, this is David," Jeff says. "He was at Dalton with us, but he actually has a proper job as a teacher do he doesn't have to work in the café with us as well."

"It's nice to meet you," Kurt says, leaning towards David and shaking his hand. "Did you say you guys went to Dalton? In Westerville, Ohio?"

"Yeah," Wes says, nodding. "Why?"

"It's…odd, is all. My glee club was supposed to compete against a group from Dalton at Sectionals one year, but they pulled out the morning of the competition."

"In 2010?" Wes asks, after counting on his fingers for a moment. Kurt thinks back, then nods. "Yeah, we were supposed to compete that year, but David here, genius that he is, fell down the stairs and gave himself concussion. We all spent the day in the emergency room."

"I have apologised enough for this," David says indignantly. Wes waves a hand dismissively and turns his attention back to Kurt.

"So you must have been in the New Directions," he says thoughtfully. "Small world."

"It really is," Kurt agrees. "I, uh…I actually considered transferring to Dalton during my Junior year, but it was too expensive in the end."

"I'm sorry, Kurt. We would have liked to meet you in high school; you seem cool. Why were you considering transferring, if you don't mind me asking."

"I, uh..." Kurt pauses for a moment, before taking the leap. "I was bullied quite a lot because of my sexuality."

The men around the table nod sombrely in understanding. "Kurt…I really am sorry," Wes says. "It's a shame Dalton wasn't an option in the end – it's a safe haven for a lot of kids in that sort of situation, Blaine included."

Kurt looks at him curiously, head tipped to the one side. Blaine was bullied? Kurt doesn't understand how anyone could hate someone as friendly and happy and utterly good as Blaine seems to be. Then again, Kurt was never able to understand why he was bullied in high school, just because he happens to like other guys.

Wes sighs and nods. "Blaine transferred to Dalton part-way through his freshman year. I won't go into details – it's not my story to tell – but things got…pretty rough."

Kurt nods in understanding, biting his lips. "It's stupid," he mutters. Then he shakes his head, fixing a smile on his face. "This got far too serious considering it's only half seven. Now, I came over here to introduce you to my friends. We've got about half an hour until Blaine's set starts, I reckon you can all get nicely acquainted in that time."

He holds out both his hands and pulls Jeff and Wes to their feet, beckoning for everyone to follow him across the room as he walks back over to his friends.

"Guys," he calls, "these are Blaine's friends." Everyone turns their attention to him as he identifies the new-comers: "This is Wes, who owns a coffee shop on St Nicholas Avenue; Jeff, Nick and Trent all work for him; and David is a teacher." He looks round at everyone, seeing them eye each other a little apprehensively. "Here's where you're supposed to talk," he says, nudging Mercedes towards Wes and then darting away, sliding into a stool at the bar and asking for a tequila sunrise. When it arrives, he takes a little sip and looks at the man sitting next to him. It is Joshua, a glass of water sat in front of him and his head resting on his arm.

"Josh?" Kurt asks. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," Josh says, jerking his head up.

"Really? 'Cause you look miserable, frankly."

Joshua sighs. "I just…haven't been out much since my boyfriend broke up with me."

Josh being gay is news to Kurt, but his expression doesn't change as he asks, "When did you guys break up?"

"Two years ago."

"Really? Okay, if it was two weeks – two months, even – I could understand," Kurt says, setting his glass down. "But two years? You need to move on, Josh. Please. Go talk to someone other than your boss, and drink something other than water. Go crazy; have a coke, maybe."

This, at least, earns a laugh from Joshua, though it is short lived. "I don't really know anyone. Certainly not any guys."

"Leave it to me," Kurt assures him. "Go and try talking to that guy." He raises his arm and points out Trent, leaning against the wall and watching everyone else interact. "Trust me."

"O…Okay," Josh says, swallowing visibly. He puts his glass of water down after one last gulp and gestures to the bartender for a coke, as suggested, before striding across to Trent, more purposefully than Kurt has ever seen him move, and engaging the other man in conversation.

Kurt settles back against the bar top and surveys his handiwork. Nick has been absorbed into a noisy conversation about baseball with Finn, Puck and Mike, whilst Jeff is being fussed over by the girls. Brittany keeps stroking his hair, and Kurt distinctly hears her ask if any elves live in it. David migrated towards Quinn almost immediately and now they are standing together, a little way away from the larger group; Kurt watches as David reaches out a tentative hand and tucks a strand of Quinn's hair behind her ear, making her blush.

Trent and Joshua appear to be getting along swimmingly, as are Wes and Mercedes. Kurt's nudge at the beginning of the evening has clearly worked wonders, as Kurt hears Mercedes' laugh ring out loudly across the room and she risks stepping closer to Wes, her eyelashes fluttering. Kurt smiles to himself, finishing his drink as Blaine steps out onto the tiny stage, his guitar clutched in one hand. Kurt was contented before, but he feels his pulse jump and something warm settle in his stomach that has nothing to do with the alcohol he's just ingested.

"Hi, everyone," Blaine calls as he settles himself on a stool, guitar strap slung over his shoulders. "How are we all tonight?"

The crowd cheers in response, and Kurt can easily make out Santana's loud call in the raucous hub-bub.

"That's great. Now, I've got a few songs I wanna play for you, but later on I might ask for a few requests – so get thinking! This first song was one of my favourites when I was in high school."

He lowers the mic on its stand a little and positions his fingers over the guitar strings, but sings the first verse unaccompanied: "Well you done done me, and you bet I felt it; tried to be cool but you're so hot that I melted; fell right through the cracks, and I'm tryin' to get back…"

Blaine begins to play now too, strumming softly, and lets his eyes rove over the crowd. He winks when he catches Kurt's eyes and Kurt can't help but grin. Normally he thinks that winking is ridiculous and cheesy and certainly not attractive; but, like so many other things, Blaine pulls it off with ease, making Kurt feel (once again) like a blushing school girl. (He can't honestly say he minds very much, though.)

The crowd applauds loudly as the song draws to a close, and Blaine laughs, thriving on the sound and soaking it in for a second before launching into a slowed-down acoustic version of some upbeat Motown song that Kurt only vaguely recognises.

After twenty-five minutes of covers, some sombre and other more cheerful, covering such a wide range of musical genres that it makes Kurt's head spin, Blaine takes a moment to pause, dragging his fingers over the strings of his guitar.

"Anyone thought of anything they'd like me to play?" he asks, turning his head to look at everyone. "I've probably got time to play one song."

There follows a resounding silence. Despite Blaine's popularity so far this evening, no one seems to want to speak up. Kurt is about to suggest something, anything, because he can't bear to see Blaine's slightly downcast expression, when Santana's voice rings out clearly across the room: "Love Me Do by the Beatles."

Jesus Christ. Jesus, Jesus, Jesus Christ. (Not that he is probably particularly bothered about what is happening to one man in a bar in New York City, but never mind. Kurt feels the distinct need to curse a lot.) Kurt is actually going to have to kill her, isn't he? She just doesn't understand about boundaries sometimes.

Kurt can feel his face heating up and knows he must be scarlet. On stage, Blaine's cheeks are also flushed, but he nods and says, "Sure. Great song," before starting to play again. If anyone notices that the tempo is perhaps a little more rushed than it should be, they don't say anything, and Blaine leaves the stage to riotous applause.

Kurt barely stops himself from slamming his glass down on the bar top (the fact that he finished his drink and put it down before Blaine even started playing be damned; it's the effect he's after) before stalking across the room to Santana.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he hisses, pulling her off to the side. "Do you know how awkward that was?"

"Oh, hush your whining, Hummel. I'm doing you two a favour: the sooner you get all up on that, the better. I'm just…speeding things up, because God knows you won't."

"Santana, if anything is going to happen – which is not guaranteed – then it will happen in its own time. We don't need any help from you."

"Oh, whatever. Of course you do. Now go talk to your boy." Santana jerks her head towards where Blaine is now stood, talking to Jeff. Kurt gives her one last glare, but moves over to stand next to Blaine anyway. By the time he gets there, Jeff seems to have melted away, leaving Blaine alone.

"Hey," Kurt says, shifting his weight to cock his hip. He hears Blaine swallow loudly and watches as a sheet of paper flutters to the ground from Blaine's fingers. Kurt automatically bends over and picks it up, having to twirl a little on the spot to catch it. there's the same loud, wet gulping sound as before and when Kurt looks up Blaine's eyes – and pupils – are wide. Kurt can't hide a smirk, remembering which pair of jeans he chose earlier. Well, he thinks, that's flattering.

"You all right?" Kurt asks, handing Blaine the paper.

Blaine blinks distractedly as he meets Kurt's gaze. "Yeah…yeah, I'm fine. You…you look great."

"Thanks," Kurt says, feeling his cheeks go rosy again. "So do you. And you sounded amazing."

"Thank you, really. That means a lot."

Kurt cocks his head to the side, unable to stop smiling even as the conversation stalls. "You wanted to meet my friends, right?" he says.

"Sure."

"Then come meet them," Kurt says, catching Blaine's hand in his own and dragging him towards the group from Glee, which is still hovering by the bar, monopolizing the bartender's attention. Other people are starting to get irritated, but are largely ignored.

"Guys," Kurt calls, "more introductions. This is Blaine."

"Oh, we know," Santana says. "We've heard all about him."

"Do you have any sense of self-preservation at all, Santana? Because you always seem to forget that I'm the one paying you when you start to irritate me."

For once, Santana can see that Kurt really means business and falls silent straight away, letting Kurt turn back to Blaine.

"That, as you may have gathered, is Santana," he says, gesturing in the Latina's direction.

"Yeah," Blaine says, "I know Santana."

Kurt frowns. "How?"

"Um…the first time I saw you here, I asked her if she knew who you were."

"Oh, yeah, she mentioned that," Kurt says. "Anyway, 'Tana's dating Brittany, the blonde one poking Jeff's hair. Puck and Lauren are the couple over by the bar, and Mike and Tina are the pair talking with Nick. They're getting married in September."

"Oh, that's great," Blaine says happily. He smiles and waves as he calls his congratulations.

"Finn's my step-brother," Kurt continues, pointing him out. "He's just broken up with my friend Rachel, who's on Broadway-"

"Rachel Berry?"

"Uh, yes?"

"You're friends with Rachel Berry?" Blaine says. "Oh my God, she's amazing!"

"Yeah, she is," Kurt says with a chuckle. Who knew Blaine was such an avid fan of Broadway musicals? "She knows it, too."

"Oh. Yeah, I can see how that would kind of suck."

"You get used to it," Kurt says. "And I love her, that helps. She was with Finn for years, on and off since high school, but I think it's completely over now."

"God, relationships in your group sound complicated."

"It gets worse," Kurt assures Blaine. "Before Santana worked out she was gay, she was on everyone. Mike and Tina are about the most stable couple out of everyone in the New Directions."

"What about you, though? You strike me as the monogamous type."

"For me to have had a boyfriend in high school would have required there to be another openly gay kid at Homophobia High, Lima, Ohio."

"Ouch." Blaine winces.

"Yep. Now, I'm forgetting people. Who have I forgotten?" Blaine gestures to the pairs on the edge of the larger group. "Oh, right, thank you. That's Mercedes, talking to Wes; Josh, the new intern, is with Trent; and Quinn is speaking to David. Mercedes and Josh, I admit, were pushed in those directions by me, but the Quinn-David thing is a little unexpected."

"Cute, though."

"Adorable, really."

"They really look like they're getting along," Blaine says. "David's been so busy lately – he's just qualified as a teacher – that it's nice to see him having fun."

"Well, I'm glad for them both – all of them, actually. I found Josh moping over a glass of water before I pushed him in Trent's direction," Kurt says, rolling his eyes expressively and making Blaine laugh. "Now that you know who everyone is, why don't you go get acquainted?"

Blaine pouts. "But I wanna talk to you."

"You can talk to me later," Kurt says, trying to ignoring the funny feeling in his stomach. It feels like some kind of insect, too small to be a butterfly but too large for anything else, is flapping in there, very insistently indeed. "Go meet my friends, like you said you wanted to."

Blaine huffs, says, "Fine," and wanders away, making his way around the group. He spends by far the most time with Santana, talking with her about something that seems serious and important, judging by the expressions on their faces, before making his way back round to Kurt."

"Done. Duty fulfilled."

"Well done," Kurt says. "Now, would you….would you like a drink?"

"That'd be nice."

Up until now, things have been a little awkward, a little stilted; once they are both settled with a drink in hand and can wrap themselves up in nothing but the other's conversation, things pick up and only improve from there.

"Look, as much as I love the film of Rent and adore Idina Menzel – how could I not? – I would always prefer to see a live performance – it's the atmosphere," Kurt insists.

"Even in a really crappy community theatre production?"

"Yes. Films can be bad too – look at John Travolta in Grease. That high note in Summer Lovin'…" Kurt shudders.

"Ugh!" Blaine sighs dramatically sipping from his glass to hide his happy smile. "There is no reasoning with you!"

"Oh, you know I'm right."

"Hey, Kurt!" Santana shouts. Kurt looks up and sees her standing by the door. "We're all leaving. You comin'?"

"Where's Mercedes?" Kurt asks.

"She left about half an hour ago with curly top's friend. Quinn left with the other one about ten minutes later."

"Oh. Well, okay, give me a minute," Kurt says, turning back to Blaine.

"You have to go?"

"Yeah. I had a really good time tonight."

"Good," Blaine says. "So did I. Can…can I see you again?"

"You asked me that last time."

"Yeah, well, it doesn't hurt to ask." Blaine shrugs, but he looks nervous. "Can I?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I want to see you?"

Blaine just shrugs again, but his anxious frown has transformed into a bright, genuine smile.

"Hey, Hummel!" calls Santana's voice. "Getting' impatient over here!"

"I really ought to go," Kurt says. "Call me sometime?"

"Of course," Blaine says. He hovers for a moment, leaning forward on the balls of his feet as if he's waiting for something. He pauses, judging Kurt's expression before closing the gap between them and kissing Kurt softly.

Never before has Kurt had a kiss like this, a kiss that makes his knees weak and his stomach flutter. As they break apart and say goodbye, Kurt knows he is grinning far too wide and that he must look slightly mad; but as he walks – no, floats – towards the door, he really can't bring himself to care.