Waking up, Kurt was glad it was Friday. It meant that he only had so long before the weekend, and he’d had no real weekend plans which mean that more likely than not, it was going to be full of Blaine. He hit snooze on his alarm and gave himself the few extra minutes to revel, to wake, to take in the fact that all the blankets on his bed were kicked toward the bottom of the bed but he was still warm, because there was the heat of a solid body wrapped around him.

He managed to wriggle out from under Blaine when his alarm went off again, and stumbled his way through his morning routine. Getting distracted was easy, with Blaine sprawled out on his front, the muscles and planes of his back so traceable and tempting to touch. Kurt did his best to leave him be, knowing the previous night had been rough and he didn’t want to wake Blaine unless it was necessary – and it wasn’t. He quietly got ready for work, only really pausing when he noticed something out of place.

Maybe it was because Kurt was still getting used to the fact that he wasn’t alone in his apartment, plus the fact that he was still on the tired side, that he didn’t notice sooner. On the floor, pressed up against the side of his desk, was Blaine’s suitcase. It hadn’t struck Kurt that Blaine might bring his things there to his apartment instead of keeping it at Brittany’s, but it made sense. He was spending time there and it wouldn’t have been practical to have to keep going somewhere else to change his clothes or shower with his own things.

It was why when he leaned down to kiss Blaine goodbye, Kurt nosed against his hair and breathed in deeply. He could still smell shampoo and conditioner lingering, sweet and different than what he was used to, which make him take another few breaths to commit it to memory before pulling away and forcing himself to go to work.

For as much as Kurt kept an eye on the clock, the day flew by. It was a matter of being too busy to think about how much he wanted to be somewhere else, and even too busy to check the texts from Blaine that he knew were there thanks to the occasional buzz in his pocket. There were dozens to read on his subway ride back to his apartment at the end of the day, and it was like Kurt was reading a commentary of Blaine’s day. He’d woken up late, found a bakery near the apartment where he ate a late breakfast, which Kurt had frequented often when he’d first moved in there, and spent the day wandering the city.

Just like it had been the day before, Kurt’s bed was made when he got back to his empty apartment. Blaine had moved his suitcase further out of the way, but it was propped open and Kurt could see how neatly everything was packed away inside. He couldn’t imagine being able to live a week out of a suitcase as small as Blaine’s, but it looked like he’d managed to fill it to the brim. There was also the fact that he was there for work, which Kurt supposed dictated what he brought, though from what he could tell there wasn’t exactly a dress code involved.

There was some time to kill before the bar opened, and Rachel had been on the fence about whether or not she wanted to go with him that night, so he was waiting for a text from her anyway. Kurt ate dinner at his apartment, not wanting the groceries in his refrigerator to go to waste just because Blaine was there and he wanted to get to the bar, so eating on the way would have gotten him closer but it was not at all practical. Eventually the text came, while he was in the middle of changing into something less suited for work, and he was on his own for the night.

The bar was already well on its way to being packed by the time Kurt got there, and he thought he was going to have to wait outside for a while until he was waved in by the bouncer. Whether it was because he was recognizable by that point or because Blaine had said something to him, Kurt wasn’t sure, but either way he was grateful. There were more people working than there had been the night before, which explained why Brittany didn’t look the least bit frazzled even though the bar was swarmed.

Blaine was up on stage, standing on his piano bench and leaning over to reach the keys as he sang out some Billy Joel, and Santana was watching him from behind her microphone with an amused look on her face. Kurt got distracted momentarily by how tight Blaine’s jeans were, and how they hugged onto him with how he was standing, but then he realized he hadn’t gotten that far past the bottom of the stairs and there were people behind him trying to get by. He shifted over toward the bar, not in any particular hurry because he was going to be there a while.

A bartender who wasn’t Brittany took his order, but Kurt managed to wave a greeting to her from where she was stuck at the other end of the bar. She mouthed something at him that he couldn’t quite make out, and he tilted his head in response, his brow furrowing. It took a few seconds of her talking to the other bartender before she was flitting down to him with his drink.

“Tonight’s so much better!” she said, setting the glass in front of him and leaning across the bar to peck his cheek. “No one’s in a bad mood and everyone’s here that’s supposed to be… it’s wonderful.”

“I’m glad,” Kurt replied, his fingers tracing into the cool condensation on the outside of his drink. “They’re doing well?” He nodded his head in the direction of the stage, and Brittany’s expression brightened.

“They’re doing super good! Like, even better than usual. I think sleeping a lot helped. Oh—I have—”

“Go,” Kurt said, watching as her gaze flickered down the bar, looking at everyone gathered. “Work. I’ll be around.” He tipped his glass to her in a toast before going to find himself a place to sit and watch the show.

There was a small, empty table near the front but off to the side, pushed up against a few other tables and with room enough for only one person, and that was where Kurt ended up sitting. It afforded him a good enough view of the stage but in a place that he felt inconspicuous. It wasn’t like Blaine acted any different when he knew he was there, at least as far as Kurt had been able to tell, but he liked being able to see him in his natural habitat, as it were, there at the bar, playing and singing his heart out for the crowd and no one in particular.

After all, that was what had drawn him to Blaine in the first place. Sure, the fact that he was devastatingly gorgeous didn’t hurt, but he could sing, and the way Blaine sang was really something else. Every note had meaning, even if it was just some pop song and he was making faces at Santana the whole time. It was never flat, they were never just words being sung, and there was always something behind it. He breathed charisma and character into everything he did while he was on that stage and Kurt couldn’t keep his eyes off him.

There were only a few more songs before Blaine and Santana excused themselves from the stage and disappeared off to the side. Kurt didn’t exactly want to give up his seat, and he knew that Blaine was working so he wasn’t expecting any kind of time with him before the night was over. He’d gotten familiar with the people who worked at the bar normally, and the pianists on the stage after them were good – just not as good as they were, in his book.

A server swept by and got him another drink, which was convenient and helpful since he knew as soon as he got up, his table would be lost. It was a good spot, and Kurt didn’t even mind the people who were sitting crowded close to him. They were nice enough, and it was their first time there so he got to hear the running commentary of excitement when something happened that he was used to but that was new to them. When the band had come out at the end of Blaine and Santana’s set, for instance, or someone’s birthday was mentioned and they got a song sung to them.

Plus, at least two of the girls thought that Blaine was incredible cute, and Kurt couldn’t help but grin at that. It was true, after all, and Blaine looked particularly adorable that night, wearing a Henley with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows and the buttons at the collar undone. It was like he’d forgotten that it was always hot in the bar, and it would be that much worse with the lights on him all night, but Kurt happened to like it when Blaine was a little sweaty and there were wisps of his hair escaping from the gel that was supposed to be holding it in place.

The only problem with being there by himself, watching as another set ended and Blaine and Santana transitioned their way back onto the stage, was that he realized that was exactly what it was going to be like when Blaine lived there in the city. Up until that point, he’d been – they’d been – living in a fantasy world of finally getting to be together, after months of wanting and not being able to have. Finally, they were in the same place at the same time and everything was lining up, except it wasn’t, really.

Waking up every morning with Blaine in his bed, that was something Kurt could get used to. It had only happened a few times, but it only took that long to get addicted to the feeling of warmth and companionship. But waking up beside him was all he would be able to do, except for on the weekends and even then, time would be limited. Their completely conflicting schedules wouldn’t make anything easy.

It had always been that way, but it would be so much worse when they were in the same place, Kurt thought. When there had been miles and states between them, there had been nothing that could have been done. Blaine being in New York, so close and yet so far, would it be like torture? There was no way of knowing until it was there, and Kurt had no idea if he would be able to handle it. Would Blaine be able to?

“Alright, we need everyone to sing along with this one,” Blaine said into the microphone, his gaze roaming out over the crowd. “And don’t even pretend like you don’t know the words, because you and I both know you do.”

Kurt couldn’t help but smile, because it was amazing how Blaine could give him reassurance without even trying. Even just seeing his smile, the concentration deep in his eyes as he and Santana launched into “Sweet Caroline,” the entire bar singing along with them on the chorus, was enough to give Kurt that feeling of of course they would be okay. When it was something that was that important, that desired, it was just a matter of putting in the effort to make it work – and he would do anything for it to work.

The music stopped abruptly and that was enough to jolt him out of his thoughts.

“I’m sorry, but I thought we were really clear at the beginning of the song,” Santana said, sighing dramatically.

“What’s wrong, San?” Blaine asked, cocking his head to the side as he looked at her.

“Well, you clearly said that we needed everyone to sing along,” she continued, grabbing a flashlight from the top of her piano. “And I noticed that someone,” she flicked the light on and shone it right at Kurt, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth, “wasn’t singing.”

Kurt felt like he might kill her. Blaine, on the other hand, had a gentle smile on his face.

“I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to come up here and sing in front of everyone as penance,” Santana said, wiggling the flashlight and arching an eyebrow at him. “Come on… you’ll get a shot out of it. Maybe a body shot, if you’re lucky.”

“I don’t think you’re going to get out of this one, honestly,” Blaine added, speaking low into the microphone. “So you might as well get up here so we can finish out the song.”

Kurt got to his feet slowly, but it was to the cheers of the girls sitting near him. He offered them a terse smile before moving through the tables and stepping up onto the stage, taking the microphone being held out to him from Blaine’s outstretched hand. His eyes were so warm that Kurt couldn’t be too annoyed. It wasn’t his fault, after all. Just Santana’s, and his own for being lost in his thoughts and not playing along.

“So,” Santana drawled, smirking even more. “What’s your name?”

“Kurt!” Brittany yelled from the bar, and he heard Blaine stifling a laugh.

“Kurt,” he confirmed, shooting a glare at Santana.

“Well Kurt, I think you know what to do,” Blaine said, fingers dancing over the keys and lightly playing variations of the melody from the song. “If it helps, I think the crowd is behind you.” Kurt took in a deep breath, because this was something he used to do – not there in a bar but in general. He used to sing, used to love to perform, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done it. Rachel used to drag him to karaoke all the time, but that hadn’t happened in almost a year. But there he was, standing up on a stage in front of a packed bar, microphone in hand.

“Just play,” Kurt replied confidently, and there were a few whoops from the crowd as Blaine raised an eyebrow in response.

“You heard the man.” Blaine nodded to Santana, who counted them off into starting the second verse.  

“Look at the night and it don't seem so lonely, we filled it up with only two,” he sang, lower in his range than he usually sang but that was what the song called for, after all. He could feel the slight tension and anxiety from being in that position melting away as he kept going, his gaze flickering up to the people out in the bar. The lights were bright, like he remembered from performing so many years before, and it was a familiar rush that ran through him as he realized they were all listening to him. “And when I hurt, hurting runs off my shoulder. How can I hurt when I'm holding you…”

The rest of the crowd joined in as he got to the chorus, singing along and adding in all the little extra parts. It was pure fun, and he could understand why Blaine so often said he loved what he got to do. Sure, it was work, but it was the kind of work that got everyone in a bar singing a Neil Diamond song together. They finished out the song with him, and Santana and Blaine, and the applause that broke out at the end was like a reminder of how good it felt to do something like that. He gave a little half-curtsy, half-bow, and turned to hand the microphone back to Blaine.

“Thank you, Kurt,” Blaine said, and his fingertips brushed over Kurt’s as he took the microphone, and he gave him a wink. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to take my job.”

“Never,” Kurt replied, shaking his head with a grin. He shot a parting look at Santana, who just looked pleased with herself, as he got down from the stage. There was still adrenaline racing through him as he got back to his table, and the girls at the next table over practically pounced on him to tell him what a good job he’d done.

“Bartender, get this man a shot, please!” Santana called up to the bar, before leaning back over her piano and starting into another song. Brittany appeared by his table a few minutes later, crouching down so she wasn’t blocking anyone’s view.

“Kurt, I didn’t know you could sing!” she exclaimed, leaning in close so he could hear her over the music. “I mean, I’m not surprised, but you can actually sing! Like a bird! What do you want?”

“Um,” Kurt started, glancing down at his still full drink and knowing that he had a long night ahead of him. Not that he wasn’t looking forward to every moment of it, but he didn’t want to overdo it. Shots weren’t exactly his cup of tea. “I think I’m fine with what I have, but how about a round of shots for my fan club?” He jerked his head toward the table beside them. “I’ll pay for all the extra ones, of course.”

“Sure! Who are they?”

“No idea,” he admitted with a shrug. “But they’re sweet and nice and have crushes on Blaine.” Brittany’s eyes lit up, her smile widening. “I know, it’s adorable. So I figure, they might need some consoling…”

“Coming right up,” she said, getting up and leaning over to them so she could figure out what they wanted. If Kurt hadn’t been their favorite person before that moment, he certainly was after.

After their set was over, Blaine skirted around the edge of the stage to get over to where Kurt was sitting. There was the panicked murmur of “oh my God he’s coming over here, shut up, shut up,” from the girl closest to Kurt, and he leaned over to tell her to breathe. He couldn’t blame her, especially because Blaine had that look in his eyes that made Kurt feel like he was about to have the breath kissed out of him. That look getting unleashed on innocent bystanders was unfair to them.

“You know, that all could have been avoided if you’d just been singing in the first place,” Blaine started, crouching down next to his table.

“Your roommate is the devil,” Kurt replied, taking a sip of his drink. “She’s Satan.”

“Be that as it may, you sounded like an angel.” Blaine propped his chin on his hand and smiled up at him.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Anderson.”

“Oh, I was hoping for it to.”

“Careful now, you’re at work,” Kurt reminded, and Blaine sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Speaking of, I should probably go do some of that.” Blaine straightened, standing up and stretching his arms up above his head. Kurt barely resisted the urge to poke his stomach, a small sliver of bare skin showing as his shirt lifted up with his arms. “Are you staying? Until close, I mean. You don’t have to; I know you worked all day—”

“Blaine, hush, yes. I’m staying.”

“Okay good.” He smiled down at Kurt once more before disappearing back toward the bar, and as soon as he was gone, Kurt felt a smack against his arm.

“You didn’t tell us you knew him, oh my God!”

The rest of Kurt’s night was spent talking to the girls at the next table, with breaks taken to watch Blaine and Santana when they were on stage. He couldn’t remember the last time he went someplace and struck up conversations with a group of strangers, but it was nice to have people to talk to since he was there by himself. They kept him company until the bar closed for the night, and stuck around until Blaine joined them out on the sidewalk.

“They’re big fans,” Kurt explained when Blaine raised an eyebrow at them all standing there, and despite the fact that all he wanted was to get him home, he gladly stood by as Blaine took his time saying hi to all of them. It was the least he could do considering how sweet they’d been to him all night, and once they were finally able to leave, it was after getting multiple hugs each from all of them.

By the time they got back to Kurt’s apartment, there had been many slow kisses exchanged on the subway and while walking down the street. Blaine insisted on taking a shower immediately, and Kurt struggled to stay awake as he lay in bed waiting for him to be done. He managed to, somehow, and smiled over at Blaine as he made his way over to the bed, shutting off the light before climbing in.

“It was sweet of you to start that fan club for me,” Blaine teased, stretching out beside Kurt and hooking his leg across his thighs. “Adorable, really.”

“It started itself,” Kurt replied, nuzzling against his hair. “I had nothing to do with it.”

“Mhmm.” Blaine sighed, his breath playing across Kurt’s chest. “I can’t believe I’d never heard you sing before.”

“I can, because I don’t really do it anymore,” Kurt murmured. “It’s okay, though.”

“I’m glad I got to hear, even if it was because of Santana.”

“Satan.”

“Shh, do you have stuff tomorrow morning?”

“No.”

“Good. We’re going to sleep like sedated bears and only wake up when our bodies say to.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Kurt whispered with a light laugh, and the last thing he remembered before dozing off was Blaine humming against his skin, a quiet melody lulling him to sleep.