Emma rested her coffee delicately on the table, and swiftly dabbed at the rim of the mug with a quickly materializing and vanishing wipe. She took a slow dainty sip, widening her eyes at Will over the brim of her coffee.

“Um…I guess they’re fine. Sorta. They don’t really bring it to Glee Club anymore…”

Emma’s neatly pencilled eyebrows creased.

“Bring what?”

“Their problems, I guess.”

“But you think they’re still dealing with…it?”

As she placed her mug on the table and began to swill it gently, Will picked up his and began to drink. Emma thought he looked tired; more tired than she had seen him in a very long time, even through everything with Terri. But maybe she just hadn’t been watching. Will took another sip of his steaming coffee, watching her watch him.

“How can they not be? I mean, I’m still dealing with it, and I wasn’t even in there.”

Emma considered the implications of his answer, but decided now was not the time to delve deeper.

“Well, what are they like in Glee Club?”

Again Will had to consider before answering. He thought back over their rehearsal of just that afternoon.

“I…I dunno.” He was forced to admit. “They seem closer, like…like they’ve grown through their shared experience, but it feels like a house of cards, Emma. They’re all leaning on one another, but if one of them goes under then they’ll all go.”

Emma paused, expecting more, but nothing was forthcoming.

“What’s happening with the trial?” She tried.

Will looked up at her large innocent eyes, framed by her auburn hair. He sighed.

“Um…Kurt went at the beginning of the week, with Dave and Blaine I think. Puck’s been there basically the whole time. And Finn missed today to go. But I think they’ve been told they can't talk about it, because whenever the chatter moves anywhere near it, they change direction.”

Emma nodded.

“Well, that’s what you’d expect, isn’t it? You don’t think they’d just casually chat about this?”

Will looked almost shocked.

“But, but you’d think they’d at least gossip about it? I mean, it’s such a huge thing, and…”

“Yeah,” said Emma, stepping in. “It is a huge thing. So can't you see why they wouldn’t just ‘gossip’ about it? This is the biggest thing, the scariest thing, that’s ever happened to these kids, Will. So they can't treat it as just another high school rumour or something.”

She was surprised at the force behind her voice, but she meant what she said.

Will didn’t answer her. He was surprised and a little scared at her disagreement, and wanted to avoid an argument. Instead he took up his coffee again, whilst Emma watched him. Finally he approached from a different angle.

“Then…ok, they don’t want to treat it as just another throwaway thing, but why won’t they come and sing about it? That’s what we always used to do, Emma…with Quinn and Finn and Puck, the whole baby thing, with Kurt and his dad, with religion, acceptance, fears; all the big things. The kids used to bring them into their songs, and we’d get through it that way. Why won’t they do that this time?”

Emma had to admit she didn’t know. She hadn’t run into one of the Glee kids since this whole thing had started, and this was the first time Will had approached her for coffee in weeks. But still, reasons for their reluctance travelled over her mind, many of them echoing her own experiences with fear and, she had to admit it, denial. But then a thought struck her.

“Maybe just try waiting until after Nationals?”

She waited as Will’s eyes tightened, and thought she should explain herself.

“Let them concentrate on that for the moment, just as a little distraction from everything else. It’s only ‘til the end of next week. They love their singing, Will, and they’re going to put everything they can into this, and imagine what it would do for them if they could win? Or even just feel like they’ve done their best? If you say that they’re really...together, at the moment, then use that. I’m sure that when they want to deal with this they will, and when that time comes, they’ll come to you. But for the moment Will, if you force them into anything, then...then it might be you who topples the house of cards...”

She ran out of words. He was looking at her oddly, and she couldn’t tell if he was still angry. She didn’t want them to fight, not after they’d just regained each other as friends, but even so she knew it would be a hundred times worse if she stood back and watched as he made some misguided attempt to help. Glee club was the best part of Will’s life now, she knew that, and he couldn’t be allowed to harm that, because he’d only end up hurting himself.

He slowly swallowed another mouthful of coffee and pursed his lips. Emma’s stomach clenched; he was still angry. Who was she to try and tell him what to do? She didn’t spend half the time with these kids that he did, and still she thought she knew better? She’d completely overstepped. She shot her mouth open to apologise, but before she could, he nodded.

“I...I guess you’re right.”

Emma closed her open mouth. He leaned forwards with a slight sigh, looking achingly tired and touched her hand, held against the hot ceramic mug.

“Thanks.”

His fingers flicked away again, before Emma had even really registered the touch, and he leaned back into his chair, missing her stifled gasp of surprise.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
-
Kurt sat alone at a side table in the Lima Bean, furiously scribbling away at the French notes in front of him. Somehow, with everything that had happened, and all the rush of Nationals, his Junior Finals had snuck up on him out of nowhere. He dropped his pen down onto the papers, stretching his fingers, and ran his hand along his chin, freezing in terror when he thought he felt the slightest bump of an emerging pimple. Stress! What it could do to a person…

It seemed like he had an ever growing mountain of work to catch up on, not to mention revision. One by one his teachers had forgotten their lenience and compassion of those first few weeks, to climb back on his back with vengeance. He sighed, delving into his bag for his grammar textbook. Luckily, even in the short few months he’d spent at Dalton, his work ethic had been pushed through the roof. He had no idea how Blaine kept it up every single day, but for now he was glad that a five hour assignment session no longer daunted him.

As he pulled his book out of his bag and flicked it open, his eyes caught on the chair opposite. It felt so strange to be here without Blaine; that chair looked so empty. Where was the second medium drip on the table, with his name even written on the cup because they were such regular customers? Or the comforting, exciting tap of that foot against his leg under the table? Or those soft hands to play with? That soft, beautiful voice making him laugh…

Kurt sighed and reached into his pocket for his iPod. Music would make him concentrate. He couldn’t let himself get distracted, however pleasurable the distraction might be. He had to get all this finished so that he would have nothing that could possibly disrupt his week in New York. Even at the thought his heart glowed with excitement. He was going on a plane for the first time in his life; he’d get to see Broadway, maybe even go for breakfast at Tiffany’s, it was going to be amazing in every single possible Sex-in-the-City fabulous way. Glancing around at the other customers as he fitted his headphones, he tried hard to suppress a yelp of giddy happiness.

An hour passed, with Kurt only breaking to jump up and refresh his coffee order. He smiled at the friendly barista as she once again handed him his change; he was in a good mood. There was a happy chatter all around him, the sun was shining outside, it was the first day of the weekend, he was going to New York, and he’d managed about a third of his work already. At this rate he might even be able to give himself some of tomorrow off before they flew out on Monday, and that meant he might be able to see Blaine. His smile grew even wider.

As he set his cup down amongst his work he saw a pale glow coming from the inside of his jacket, stretched across the back of his chair. He fished his phone out of his pocket. And smiled again. It was Blaine. Quietly and quickly he slid into his chair, crossing his legs and flicking the message open.

‘What you doing? xoxo’

Kurt’s lip curled into an unwitting grin. He knew Blaine’s game; he’d told him his plans over the phone just last night, he was obviously just trying to be annoying. Gorgeously, captivatingly, totally endearingly annoying. He tapped and opened a reply.

‘Shush! Working  I told you yesterday. So stop distracting me! xxx’

Kurt clicked his phone to locked, but couldn’t help laying it down on the table next to his iPod. He picked up his pen once more and tried to figure out how to continue the sentence he’d half begun:

"Un r�veur est celui qui ne peut trouver son chemin au clair de lune, et sa punition, c'est qu'il voit l'aube avant que le reste du monde." Vous voyez-vous comme un r�veur?

Oui, je suis un r�veur, parce que j'ai un r�ve…

Bleep.

Before him, the screen of his phone lit again. He smirked. Nice try Blaine, but this time he was definitely going to wait at least five minutes before looking at it. Quickly, as if to prove this to himself, Kurt covered his phone with his copy of Huck Finn. No more distractions.

Mon r�ve…My dream has been the same since I was a little boy. Since I can remember…

How did you say ‘I have always wanted to be’? J'ai toujours voulu? J'ai toujours d�sir� �tre? Kurt reached for his book again. One single thought of ‘Blaine would know…’ flashed across his mind. He settled on the first.

J’ai toujours voulu…I have always wanted to be…happy. And from a very early age I found that I was happiest when I was singing and performing. I used to…

Kurt grappled with the constructions, trying to fit in as many complex sentences as he could, with all his tenses. Slowly the paragraph took shape, although somehow he wasn’t really happy with it. It was odd, having to express your deepest desires to a faceless examiner; how had he managed to sound so insincere? Should he write that his wish was to become fluent in French, or that dreamers were impractical idealists who couldn’t cope with reality? What did they want to hear?

On queue his phone bleeped again, weakly from below the thick text. Kurt smiled but sighed. Have some patience, Blaine, he just needed to finish this last sentence.

…And I hope that one day I will be able to achieve this.

A nice expression of a wish; if nothing else he knew his teacher would be fooled into giving him a decent grade. Another bleep.

“Alright, alright…”

Kurt muttered under his breath, shuffling the finished test together and reaching to drop it into his bag. But before he could even put the cap back on his pen there was a second beep, then a third. A phone call? Really? Quickly, Kurt glanced around, scanning the tables around him to see if anyone would mind him answering. Behind him a couple sat, making out on the sofas. Kurt decided he wasn’t going to be the conspicuous one, and picked the book from on top of his cell. It was Blaine.

“Hello?”

“Hi!”

Kurt, once more, couldn’t stop his heart from glowing at the sound of that voice. His imagination placed Blaine in his room, sitting on a bed that Kurt had never seen, surrounded by the musical posters and closets of blazers that Kurt had dreamt up for him.

“You know you’re interrupting me again, don’t you? Keep this up and I won’t be finished in time to say goodbye tomorrow.”

He made sure his voice stayed bright and laughing, but at the same time, he meant the mock threat. He wasn’t going to let talking over the phone take the place of being able to see that face, kiss those lips and sit in those arms.

“I know, I know, I know.”

Blaine garbled, bouncing along the words.

“But…did you get my text? You didn’t text me back?”

Kurt laughed.

“Yeah, I got it, but I was working.”

He leant on the word.

“So I thought you might be able to wait a few minutes! Obviously I was wrong.”

“Did you read it?”

“No, not yet. What did it say?”

Kurt thought for one delicious moment that Blaine sounded almost sheepish; rosily embarrassed and excited. What had he put in that message? Was it some impulsive expression of…of something? Less than dapper thoughts crossed his mind.

There was a nervous laugh at the other end of the line.

“Just that…I have a surprise for you.”

Kurt bit his lip, colour flushing to his own cheeks. He tried to hide under his hair as a waitress came to collect his empty cup, quickly muttering a thanks. As she moved away he lowered his voice.

“What? What is it? A good surprise?”

“I hope so.”

“Tell me!”

There was a lovable cackle.

“Nice try! This is a face to face surprise.”

“Blaine!”

An old man to his right, reading a tabloid, shot Kurt a look at his raised voice.

“Blaine!”

Kurt hissed again.

There was another laugh, and Kurt thought he heard the sounds of traffic and voices.

“Sorry, darling. My lips are sealed until you open them in person.”

Kurt’s stomach knotted itself involuntarily. He wanted to say no fair, but it sounded like the fairest thing in the world.

“Well…well, go away then, so I can finish in time for tomorrow without all these distractions.”

“Alright, maybe I will…”

As Blaine spoke the couple from the sofa walked past Kurt towards the doors, her hand sliding up and under the back of his shirt as though no one would notice. Kurt saw the old man ogling them. Got to love those double standards. Blaine’s sweet voice continued in his ear.

“…but it was your fault for wanting to work in the coffee shop.”

Kurt blinked.

“No; it’s relaxed, and it reminds me of being at Dalton, so I can work better…wait, how did you know I was here?”

There was the smallest of pauses. Kurt thought he heard the sound of a tinkling bell, and a door swinging shut. Where was Blaine? The man next to him rustled his paper loudly as the couple left, clearly trying to shut him up. Kurt could have given him a few pieces of his mind.

“I…uh, you told me yesterday, don’t you remember? And I can hear it in the background.”

Blaine’s tone went back to brisk and joking.

“But anyway, if you want to shun me, that’s fine. Don’t think I’m not used to it.”

With each word he became more and more melodramatic.

“It’s not like you haven’t abandoned me before, casting me aside for fame and glory. No, no, I’m sure I’ll get over it in the week you’re spending gallivanting around Soho and Manhattan and Tribeca, and up and down Broadway, with no chance of there being any other guys around to usurp me…”

“Shut up.”

Giggled Kurt.

Blaine’s voice switched again, back to its normal warmth.

“Alright, but listen. For my sakes, get another coffee, finish up that work, and who knows, maybe I’ll see you sooner rather than later.”

“Ok, and don’t forget my surprise.”

“I can't.”

Kurt swore he could almost hear Blaine winking.

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Kurt pulled his ear away and put the phone back in his jacket to a righteous nod from the old man. He left the happy grin on his lips and shone it in his face; being the better man.

He picked up his pen once more and pulled out some fresh paper for his next assignment, but now he couldn’t concentrate. Stupid Blaine and his stupid surprise. What could it possibly be? A present? Maybe it was something to take with him to NYC, or, and his heart leapt, something for him to do there? Kurt let out a small gasp as one thought came into his mind. Had Blaine got him Broadway tickets? If so, Kurt feared his heart would never recover.

But what if it wasn’t? What if it was something completely different? Maybe it was just a CD or a sweater or something. With a second thought, he reached for his phone again; what had Blaine’s unopened text said? He popped the message open.

‘I have a surprise for you… ;) and no better time for it ;) xoxo’

So that gave no clues; except for the winking faces. Uh oh. Kurt knew there was nothing so ambiguously suggestive, nothing he could read more into that a winking face. Did…did that mean it was an ambiguously suggestive surprise? A physical surprise? What was it that Blaine had said? ‘A face to face surprise…my lips are sealed until you open them in person’? ‘No better time for it’? Kurt’s stomach rolled as he gazed, wide eyed and unseeingly, into the bright bubbles of text. That kind of surprise? Kurt shivered as he even thought of the word. His inner voice whispered it, almost afraid that someone would hear.

‘Sex?’

No. No, Blaine wouldn’t go there. Not on a whim. Not when he knew how tentative Kurt had been on the subject.

But that whole ‘sexy’ thing; that had been before the two of them, before there had ever been the possibility of anyone wanting…that, with him. And Kurt couldn’t deny that he’d been having, well, dreams about…it. Ever since his dad had given him those damn pamphlets. Kurt’s face flushed and his heart threatened to abandon his chest. Those dreams had embarrassed him so much that he’d been scared to look Blaine in the eye the next day; what if he could see it in him? They weren’t Kurt; they weren’t the sweet, sugary, Broadway romances he’d always fallen for.

But if it was Blaine; really Blaine, physical Blaine, there…right in front of him…

Kurt gasped, realising he’d stopped breathing. But his heart kept pounding. And he realised he wasn’t afraid. Not anymore.

With Blaine, it would be ok. More than ok. What had his dad called it, during that oh-so-awkward conversation? ‘A wonderful present to yourself’? Wow. Kurt rubbed his hand over his beetroot cheeks. What a way to say goodbye, Blaine.

With a breath of air and a tinkle of a bell, the door to the shop was pushed open again, breaking Kurt out of his reverie. He stuck out a hand to hold down his stirring papers in the breeze and picked up his pen once more. But he was never going to be able to work now. His brain began shouting ideas and opinions at him. What if he'd made the whole thing up in his head? It wouldn't be the first time. Could he ever show his face again if he made some stupid assumption that was completely the opposite of what Blaine had planned? He reddened again at the thought; oh God, how awful would that be? Kurt Hummel, the closeted sexual predator. Or what if it was what Blaine wanted, but Kurt wasn't good enough? He had no experience, no references, except for a couple of those movies and those stupid pamphlets again. And they made it seem so...practiced, so acquired. He was going to be awful, he knew it.

The door swung shut again, catching one loose sheet which rocketed upwards and caught Kurt full across the face. He pulled it down and scrunched it in frustration. He had to pull himself together; he had no idea what Blaine was going to say, and whatever it was he had to trust his boyfriend. Blaine would have put a lot of thought into whatever it was. Yeah. So pull yourself together, Hummel. Trust. And courage.

He tossed the ball of paper aside purposefully and looked down at his work. Ok; there was his task. Kurt reached down for his bag and pulled out his wallet. He was going to trust Blaine; and what had Blaine said? 'Get another coffee and get that work finished'. He fished out five dollars and stood up, pushing his chair in.

The queue was longer than it had been previously, and as Kurt waited for what must have been his fourth grande no fat mocha, he checked his watch. It was quarter to one. He’d have to get some lunch soon; was it totally sad to just stay here and get a sandwich? He decided it wasn’t, not if it helped him get his work done. The barista turned and placed another steaming mug in front of him.

“Tha…” He began, but before he could finish, she’d placed a second cup beside it; a medium drip with ‘Blaine’ scribbled on the side. Kurt blinked. Had he made the wrong order? Reverted to autopilot? But surely she knew that it was just him, as it had been for the last three hours…

Before he could reach the end of his thought, a hand slid around his waist, grazing the warm slice of skin between his shirt and his trousers, and a second one reached forward, taking hold of the mysterious mug. Kurt froze in surprise, his hand half extended as the barista grinned back at him. A soft flurry of curls brushed the side of his forehead, and two balmy lips grazed his ear.

“Surprise…”

Whispered a sensual voice.

Kurt spun round; almost sending the coffees flying, straight into a bare, embracing pair of arms.

“Woah! Careful.”

It was Blaine, grinning in the sunlight streaming through the windows. His bright polo shirt shone against his skin, and he smelt heavenly.

“Blai…wha…”

Kurt kept blinking, overwhelmed. All his embarrassing thoughts came rushing back to him, flooding to his face and turning it a bright magenta. What was he doing? Why was he here? Now? ‘Face to face’? Kurt swallowed. Were they going somewhere? Today? Maybe overnight? He felt lightheaded.

“What are you doing here?”

He finally managed to gasp.

Blaine beamed absurdly, tapping his foot like a restless dog and running his tongue along the bottom of his gleaming teeth. Kurt tried not to focus on his mouth too much.

“Ok, I’m sorry. But I couldn’t wait! I was outside when I called you; I knew you were here.”

Kurt struggled with the scrambling words. Blaine had been outside the whole time?

“You…you followed me?”

Blaine blushed rose red and bit his quivering lip.

“Maybe…I wasn’t just waiting though; I had to do a little bit of shopping first.”

Blaine winked and Kurt’s imagination threatened to go into overdrive. Shopping? For what? For protection? For some kind of outfit? Is this how it was done? His pupils grew wider and wider. Was he supposed to have understood? To have done something similar?

“For the…the surprise?”

Blaine nodded, up and down, up and down, still grinning like a clown.

“I’m so excited! I can’t wait!”

Kurt managed a shuddering, blinking nod.

“C’mon.”

Said Blaine, linking his arm through Kurt’s and pulling him so that he had to scramble for his own coffee.

“Let’s sit down. I can't wait to talk about it and plan everything.”

Kurt blanched at the words, but followed, feeling his feet move until he was sliding back into his chair and Blaine was shuffling together his notes in front of him.

“C’mon, lets clear this all up.”

He laughed again to himself, half wondering why Kurt had that lopsided expression of a rabbit in headlights on his face.

“I thought I told you to finish this up; but I could see you through the window. You did absolutely nothing for about five minutes after I called; just sat here! So I thought I better come chivvy you along!”

Kurt said nothing again, and Blaine jumped into his normal chair opposite him, propping his coffee on top of a stack of textbooks. He grinned again, then tried to control himself, then had to grin once more. Kurt felt his foot lightly brushed under the table, then nudged in time with what Blaine was saying. Slowly those toes worked their way from his ankle, driving back his chinos until they almost reached his knee.

“So…”

Blaine paused, staring at him with wide starry eyes.

“What do you think it is?”

He began to slightly bounce in his chair like a toddler.

“I’ll give you…three guesses.”

Kurt swallowed. Three guesses? Was he seriously supposed to say those words out loud?

“Umm…”

Blaine kept bouncing, nodding in prompt.

“Err…”

Blaine clapped his hands together impatiently.

“Come on, I’ll give you a clue…it…it involves both of us.”

Kurt swallowed again.

“Both of us?”

“Uh hu. Now, come on, you must have some idea! Both of us and…”

He began drumming his fingers on the table, in mock imitation of a drum roll.

“And two pieces of paper.”

“Paper?”

Now Kurt was confused. But Blaine kept nodding like a maniac. Kurt watched as he reached inside his jeans and carefully drew out something white, like an envelope. But with a cheeky giggle, Blaine kept it pressed to the underside of the table.

“No cheating.”

Kurt bit his lip and wiped his hands on his trousers. Ok, now or never, he had to go for it.

“You…you and I, are going…”

The nodding increased in passion.

“Are going to…to go and have…”

Kurt chickened out and let his voice lift like a question. He couldn’t say it. Not out loud; not in public.

“Adventures!”

Blaine interjected, like a little kid, his smile growing wider than Kurt thought was possible.

“And so, so, so much fun. I just went and bought a new camera especially for it, and sunglasses; pink of course, and a map…”

He chattered on and on, but Kurt just stared, hearing the list of objects. The whirring cogs of his brain came to an abrupt halt. From somewhere inside his mind, a tiny, high pitched voice spoke up, a memory of his sarcastic self; ‘Uh…I don’t think he’s talking about sex’.

“…and my mum’s fine with it; it was actually partly her suggestion…”

‘Yeah…definitely not sex this time, Kurt…’

“And I can use some of the compensation money for it…of course the money hasn’t actually come yet, but we can afford it for the time being, and it was just such a once in a lifetime opportunity, Kurt…”

Kurt held up his hand, the mist still clearing from his mind. The adrenaline was draining from his system and he was completely lost. Had Blaine bought him something? But it was something for them to do together? And it involved paper?

“Wait, Blaine. Wha…what are you talking about?”

Blaine reached a free hand over the table and brought both of Kurt’s frozen palms towards himself.

“Kurt.”

He said, reaching his other hand up from under the table, the piece of paper held within it, reaching out either side. He placed it in Kurt’s limp hands, and Kurt felt that it was light, and saw that it was slightly coloured in waving bands. A strange logo thing glinted at him from one visible corner; then Blaine removed his hand and Kurt saw it in full for the first time.

“Kurt, I’m coming to New York with you.”