“Hey!” A tap on his shoulder broke him out of the moment and he made himself tear his eyes away as he turned to see the bartender standing there with his drink in front of him. She looked more concerned than annoyed. “You still want this, right?”

“Y-Yeah, sorry, I couldn’t hear – if you said something before,” he said, waving one of his hands around his ear as he reached for his wallet with the other. It was a good enough excuse for the environment, and a fair lot better than the truth of how he’d been too busy staring at her coworker to notice that she was waiting for him. “Can I start a tab?”

“Sure thing! And it’s okay; I get distracted by them too.” She offered him a soft smile as she took his card, and he briefly considered denying her implication but didn’t see the point. They were performers – weren’t they supposed to be distracting? It was perfectly normal that he’d been distracted, a compliment, even. At least, that’s what he told himself as some sort of rationale.

“Kurt! That was sneaky,” Rachel said as she sidled back up to him and set the shot glasses on top of the bar. They disappeared quickly, thanks to the swift hands of the bartender who had been talking to Kurt, and Rachel ordered herself a Cosmo. “I wanted to do that shot with you.”

“Well sorry to disappoint, but you should know better,” Kurt replied, picking up his drink – vodka and ginger ale – and taking a sip. Rachel pouted until her drink appeared on the counter beside her, and then linked her arm with his to pull him away from the bar.

They’d missed whatever banter had happened between the two performers, but the music had started again. They fought their way to a table near the front – two seats had cleared up and Rachel had essentially elbowed anyone who had tried to get there before them. Kurt thought he might have liked it up at the bar better, because the height made it easier to watch everything that was going on at once. The seats were good, and there was a mirror tilted on the wall behind the stage to reflect the hands that were moving across the keyboards, but he felt like he was only seeing part of the picture.

Also, he could barely see the boy on stage.

“Switch me seats?” he asked Rachel, motioning with his hand in case she couldn’t hear.

“What?” Her eyes widened a little over the rim of her glass as she took a long sip. He rolled his eyes, getting up from his seat and gently pulling her to her feet, steering her to the chair he’d been sitting in and slipping into hers. She raised an eyebrow at him but shrugged her shoulder and turned her attention to the stage.

It was entertaining to watch, because the performers were never just singing and playing. There were so many slips of papers hold scrawled out song requests littering the lids of the pianos, and whoever wasn’t singing the lead on the song was constantly looking through the requests in front of them. As far as Kurt could tell, it was when they found one they liked that they balled it up and threw it across the pianos to the other person. It was like a game, and they were both shockingly good at throwing it just hard enough to put it within easy reach but without overshooting and sending it into the crowd.

Most of what they played was Top 40s, though there were some other tunes sprinkled in. Kurt wondered what exactly the hiring process was at such a place, considering that neither person on stage seemed phased by any request. To apply, did someone have to have a giant wealth of music in their head and the talent to pull it out and play at will? He could never imagine being able to do that, even if he was better at piano – which he wasn’t. That went tenfold for when more musicians joined them on stage, adding a backing band to the mix.

“Alright, we’ve got one more song before we switch off and take a break,” the boy said, squinting across the pianos as his cohort. “What do you think we should make it?”

“I have a request here for some Gaga,” she replied, holding a slip of paper up before crumpling it and sending it his way. “Might as well go out with a bang, no pun intended…”

Kurt felt a twinge of disappointment. They’d been splitting the songs fairly evenly between them, but the only other Lady Gaga number they’d done had only featured the girl singing. The paper got passed back to the rest of the band and a few buttons were pressed on the keyboard before the boy started playing, heavily synthesized notes coming through and easily identifying the fact that they were going to do “Edge of Glory” for their last song.

“There ain’t a reason you and me should be alone tonight, yeah baby, tonight yeah baby,” she started, her gaze flickering out over the crowd for a long moment before moving back to the piano. “I got a reason that you should take me home tonight.”

“I need a man who thinks it’s right when it’s so wrong tonight, yeah baby, tonight yeah baby.” Kurt’s nearly choked on his drink when the other voice took over, the same one that had been captivating him since they got there at any chance it’d gotten. It was just a very unfortunate line to be sung by him when Kurt had been in the middle of trying to take a sip. Rachel hadn’t seemed to notice, which was a blessing. “Right on the limit where we know we both belong tonight.”

They traded lines back and forth, harmonizing their way through the choruses and grinning the whole time. Kurt had to guess that it was a song they played often, considering how seamlessly it went and the way they kept making faces at each other. There was a good amount of applause and whooping from everyone gathered in the tables and around the bar when it ended.

“Thanks everybody! That beautiful, talented woman across from me that’s been stealing all your hearts is the incomparable Santana Lopez – let’s give her another round of applause!” Santana preened, a slow smirk spreading across her features as she stood up and took a small, playful bow.

“Thank you, thank you. That fun sized, smooth talking gentleman is Blaine Anderson, and I think you should all let him know just how much you appreciate how good he is with those fingers of his.” Blaine gave her a look, but hopped up off the bench and bowed all the same. “We’ll be back in about an hour, but in the meantime we’re leaving you in the more than capable hands of our cohorts, Jack Higgins and Matthew Todd.”

They both hopped down off the stage, off to the side, and disappeared from Kurt’s line of sight. Rachel kicked him under the table as their replacements started in on some Journey, which every drunk person in the bar started singing along with, and she pointed down at his empty glass. Raising an eyebrow, she made a drinking motion, and then shrugged and pointed up toward the bar.

“Rachel, I’m not deaf,” Kurt said loudly over the music as he leaned in so she could hear him. “And that was not the best pantomiming.”

“And yet you knew what I was asking!” Rachel shot back, finishing off the last sip of her drink. “Yes? No? I can fight my way through the crowd!”

“I’ll go in a few minutes, once it’s thinned out a bit,” Kurt offered, not wanting to subject more people than necessary to the pointy elbows and the ferocity with which they could jab that was Rachel Berry when she was tipsy and on a mission for booze.

“That guitar player was very nice,” Rachel said, appeased by Kurt’s offer and moving on. “I mean, talented. Not that there was much material for him to work with, obviously guitar isn’t the focus of this establishment, but he seemed to—”

“You thought he was hot,” Kurt supplied, cutting her off.

“Yes, wasn’t he?”

“Entirely not my type, Rachel,” he said, not really feeling the need to mention that he couldn’t have picked the guitar player out of a lineup because he’d been too busy staring at Blaine Anderson to notice anyone else up on the stage. “But if you think so, I’ll take your word for it.”

They sat listening for good twenty minutes before the bar looked less crowded than it had right at the performer’s switch. He grabbed both their glasses off the table and gave Rachel a jerk of his head to indicate that he was going to the bar, and then got up to do just that. There were still people everywhere and it took a bit of prodding and pushing to make his way, but eventually he got up and set the glasses on the counter.

“Excuse me,” he started saying to the person behind the bar with his back to him, but he got distracted with looking down to make sure he hadn’t spilled any of the few remaining drops of Rachel’s drink on himself. When he looked back up he felt startled out of speaking – because there was Blaine.

“Can I help?” Blaine asked, leaning forward against the bar. “I can get you a beer, or a cocktail, or… my phone number and coffee tomorrow morning.” He winked, and Kurt’s eyes widened just slightly. “I’m just joking! Sorry, stuff like that is why they don’t let me do this.” He gestured around behind the bar and laughed. “I can get you a drink though, maybe, since apparently our BARTENDER IS INDISPOSED.”

His last words were practically shouted at a nearby door that said ‘employees only.’ There was a thud from behind it that was barely audible over the music, but Kurt had still heard it. Blaine just chuckled under his breath and leaned forward again, so close to Kurt, close enough that Kurt felt like he could count his eyelashes – and there were a lot to count. Up close he felt like he was going to drown in Blaine’s eyes, so whiskey-honey colored and deep and they still hadn’t stopped that sparkling thing they did. “So… drink?”

“Drink,” Kurt repeated, nodding a moment before clearing his throat and mentally demanding that he stop staring and repeating words like a parrot and actually act like an adult. “Right. I need a Cosmo and a Screwdriver.”

“Cosmo, huh?” Blaine teased, reaching down for the bottles he needed.

“My friend, she likes things that taste like pink,” Kurt said, rolling his eyes. “Her words.”

“Nothing wrong like that. I feel like Brittany would probably agree,” Blaine said, concentration clear on his face as he poured into the shaker.

“Brittany?”  Kurt stopped himself before asking if Brittany was his girlfriend, because he was holding onto the line Blaine had sung from “Edge of Glory” and the fact that he had offered Kurt his phone number – which, he’d been joking but he’d still done it – and the thought that he might be gay. He didn’t need to be that crazy guy who came to the bar once and then turned into a creepy stalker.

“Bartender,” Blaine explained, smacking the lid onto the shaker and shaking it one handed while he grabbed another glass. “Uh, you probably saw her earlier? Blonde, smiles a lot, likes to abandon non-bartenders like me out here every once in a while.”

“Is she alright?” Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m betting on more than alright,” Blaine said wryly, quickly finishing the two drinks and pausing as he looked from them to Kurt. “Oh. Cash? Tab? What are we doing, here?”

“Tab,” Kurt answered quickly. “Kurt Hummel.”

“Kurt Hummel,” Blaine repeated, saying his name slowly, like he was rolling each letter over his tongue and savoring it. He said it over again as he turned to poke at the register computer and find Kurt’s name, adding the drinks on before nodding. “Gotcha.”

“Good. Um, thanks,” Kurt said, picking up the glasses off the counter. “You sound really good up there, by the way. Both of you did, but I mean—”

“No it’s alright, I’m worlds better than Santana,” Blaine said, grinning. “I’m joking.” He leaned in, his expression turning into something much more sincere. “Thank you. It really does mean a lot to hear you say that.”

“I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.”

“I can tell.” Blaine reached out, his fingertips brushing against Kurt’s wrist. “Thank you.”

Kurt managed a nod before he turned to head back to Rachel. He made it partway there before glancing back over his shoulder, catching glimpses between people of Blaine moving behind the bar, trying to assemble drinks for them. They had probably been waiting there while Blaine was wasting time talking to –flirting with? – him. Brittany appeared from behind the ‘employees only’ door, looking slightly disheveled, but jumped right back in and started taking orders like nothing had happened. Blaine looked grateful, and Kurt was almost certain that their eyes met again when he saw Blaine smile, and he ducked his head down as he made his way back to the table.

“Finally!” Rachel exclaimed, taking the glass and drinking half of it in one swallow. “That guy from earlier brought me a shot of tequila right after you left! I think he was trying to take your seat, but I told him no.”

“I appreciate that,” Kurt said, sliding back down into his seat. Rachel wasn’t exactly a heavy drinker, and she was actually a complete lightweight, so he was proud that she was two shots and a Cosmo in and not slurring all her words together. Then again, he doubted it had all hit her just yet, and he was going to take his time with his second drink just in case she started to spiral down quickly.

“These guys aren’t quite as good as those other ones,” she said, as if confiding a secret, as her hand waved in the direction of the stage. “I hadn’t seen any of them when I was here before, but the last two were super good. Not just because of that hot guitar player, either. I hope he comes back. Will he? Make him come back, Kurt.”

“Easy tiger.” Kurt pat her arm lightly. “Just sit back and enjoy the show, Rach. I’m sure he’ll come back eventually. They came out at the end of the last set, remember? That’s probably when they’ll come out for this one and it’s getting close to the hour.”

“Oh yes! And that means the other people will come back too! You’re very smart sometimes, you know.”

Kurt let the backhanded compliment go, knowing she meant well by it even though it could be taken the other way. That was one of the reasons he got along with her when so many others didn’t – he knew her well enough to know what she meant as opposed to what she said. It was a helpful skill to have when she was sober, not to mention when she was drunk.

He’d been right. Sure enough, as soon as they got to the last two songs of the set, the band came back out and joined them on stage. Kurt could see Blaine and Santana waiting by the side of the stage, laughing about something together and clinking glasses before taking a drink. The performers on stage re-introduced them and they hopped up, sitting at the same pianos they’d been at before – so Kurt’s seat was still the best vantage point for watching Blaine.

The thing about watching Blaine so intently, because he really was captivating when he was singing, was that it meant Kurt lost track of Rachel. She managed to get up and leave the table without him even seeing her move, and he had no idea how many songs had passed since she’d downed her drink and disappeared. He swore under his breath and took the last sip of his drink, getting up from the table and pushing his way through the people dancing in front of the stage as Santana belted out “Can’t Be Tamed.”

“Brittany?” Kurt asked when he got up to the bar, seeing her milling around replacing bottles. She tilted her head and walked over closer to him. “Have you seen a girl… about this tall,” he held up his hand to around Rachel’s height, “and wearing a purple dress? She was with me earlier – not that I’d expect you to remember because there are so many people—”

“Oh yeah!” Brittany said with a nod. “Berry-something. I only remember because she was drinking lots of fruity things and I thought her name made sense. Is she lost?”

“Lost is a good word. Misplaced is another one. Disappeared…”

“I think she was up here getting a drink with Puck a few minutes ago.” Brittany chewed on her lip and pushed up onto her tiptoes to look out over the crowd.

“Puck?”

“He plays the guitar? Not just for fun, like, he does that here. Plays guitar, I mean.” Her brow furrowed for a moment and then her eyes lit up. “Oh! Over at the merch shop. They’re over there.”

“Thanks,” he said, heading off in the direction she’d been looking. It was a small shop near the stairs where they’d come in, overflowing with t-shirts and bumper stickers, and it looked like that was where the band was when they weren’t up on stage. Sure enough, Rachel was there.

“Kurt!” she exclaimed when she saw him, holding her arms open and stumbling forward against him as soon as he was close. “They have the funniest bumper stickers. They say ‘bang this!’ Isn’t that funny? Because it’s a reference to the name of the bar, but it could also mean—”

“I think I get it,” Kurt said quickly, holding onto her arms to steady her and keep her upright. He looked over at the musicians, searching out the one that he recognized as the guitar player. “Puck?” The mohawked man nodded. “What exactly did you do to her?”

“Whoa man, I didn’t do anything,” he said, his hands held up in surrender. “We all did a round of shots together but that’s it.”

“Kurt, I feel like my insides are fuzzy,” Rachel sighed. “Did I eat a teddy bear and forget?”

Kurt pursed his lips to fight back a laugh that was trying to escape. It wasn’t funny, shouldn’t have been funny – his best friend was completely tanked – but it really was. Puck looked torn between concern that Kurt was going to do something to him, though what was ridiculous because looked like he could easily take anything Kurt might dish out, and laughter. He didn’t have the tact that Kurt did, and he burst out laughing at Rachel’s question.

“Come on, Rach, let’s get you home.”

“Did I? Did I eat a bear?”

“No, you didn’t, let’s… let’s go.” Kurt led her up the stairs, which took much longer than it should have, and back out onto the street. It was full-fledged raining by that point, and he knew there was no chance of getting home without getting completely drenched.

It took a while to get to the subway, then to Rachel’s apartment, get her into dry clothes and settled in bed with a bottle of water and some aspirin on her nightstand, and then back to his apartment. By the time he got there, he’d lost and of the little tingly buzz he’d had from the minimal alcohol he’d consumed.

Kurt couldn’t wipe the picture of Blaine out of his head. It was like he was something out of a dream – it really was. His clothes had looked annoyingly perfect on him, so simple but just enough, hugging to his body like he was doing them a favor by wearing them. Kurt kept focusing on when he’d been at the bar, so close to him, close enough to see the light sweat that was glistening on his skin from the lights that had been shining down on him when he’d been on stage and from how hot and humid the bar was thanks to the people and the weather. How his eyes had looked so unreal, because who had eyes like that?

It wasn’t until he was halfway through peeling out of his soaking wet clothes the he realized he was thinking about a complete stranger who worked at a bar while he was taking off his clothes. He shook his head, sending droplets of water flying, and made himself focus on something else while he got out of the rest of his clothes and hung them up in his bathroom to dry. His plans for the next day were a good distraction, because he did have a lot to do, so he ran through a tentative schedule in his head while he dried off and tugged on a pair of clean boxers before climbing into bed.

It wasn’t until he was laying there in bed, covers pulled up to his chin to try and warm him up after the wet, chilled walk home from the subway station, that he realized that in leaving with Rachel like they had, neither of them had cashed out and their cards were still there behind the bar. He groaned, rolling over and burying his face into his pillow. Mentally, he added it to his list of errands of the next day.

If he happened to see Blaine when he stopped in there, well, so be it.