It had taken Kurt a week of texts exchanged back and forth with Blaine to ask the question that had been nagging at him since the first time it crossed his mind. Blaine had used plural words when talking about what he was doing, where he was going, and he just kept doing it once he was in Ohio. That had been one of the reasons Kurt had been wary in the first place. As much as Kurt believed him that the ‘I don’t want to lead you on’ reason was because Blaine lived some five hundred miles away, there was that thought eating away at him of what if there was someone else?

He felt like an idiot for even caring, because what was he doing? He’d been the one to try and stop the awkwardness with saying they should be friends, so what right did he have to get jealous if there was someone else? Except it was stuck in his head, and he needed to know for his own sanity, so he waited for a night to roll around when he knew Blaine didn’t have work, and he sent the question before he could talk himself out of it.

To: Blaine Anderson
Random, but you always say ‘we’ when you’re talking about doing stuff. Who’s ‘we’?

There was a lull – a lull that Kurt spent preparing his breakfast and lunch for the next day so he could just grab them and go when the morning rolled around. He hated that feeling, like he was being ridiculous, because he had absolutely no right to be jealous at all. They were friends, friends who’d barely gotten a chance to get to know each other, but that didn’t stop the involuntary twist in his stomach.

It had been a good week, one of the best in recent memory if he was being honest with himself. Maybe it was just the whole new friend shine that always wore off eventually but was incredible while it lasted, but he couldn’t remember the last time his phone had been used that much. Rachel sent him texts occasionally, but she usually was of the belief that he was busy at his internship and obviously she was busy with her rehearsals, so she tried not to bother him unless it was important. Though with Rachel, ‘important’ was loosely defined.

Blaine, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind that Kurt was busy all day – that didn’t stop him from sending dozens of texts throughout the day. It was almost like he sent through any thought that popped into his head, most of which didn’t require a response, and that was good because Kurt only really got a chance to check his phone when he was eating his lunch or at the end of the day on his subway ride back to his apartment. That was when he would give it right back to him, telling Blaine about the inner office drama at Vogue and how much a quiet observer could easily take down a majority of the people there just by keeping their ears open and using information valuably. Not that he would ever stoop to such things, of course.

He’d woken up to texts from Blaine, more often than not. There hadn’t been any the first couple days, but Kurt hadn’t even thought about the fact that Blaine had said something about working five nights a week. As soon as the night started when he was working, it was like entertainment to wake up to. There were always stories about what was happening at the bar, the crazy patrons or what absurd songs were being requested, and what made it even better was that Kurt could easily see the progression of when Blaine was drinking.

They hadn’t spoken – actually spoken with voices instead of typed words – since their not-goodbye outside the diner, which is why it startled Kurt when his phone started ringing instead of just buzzing.

“Hello?”

“Kurt, hi!” He may have known it was Blaine, a simple glance at the screen of his phone had told him that, but that didn’t stop the feeling he got when he heard his voice. It was just so pleasant, nice to listen to, and he mentally kicked himself for thinking any of those things.

“Hi, Blaine. How are you?”

“I’m doing well, you?”

“I’m fine. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I just got your text and I didn’t really understand it?” Blaine said, and Kurt could almost picture his brow furrowing like it had done a few times when they’d been at the diner and he’d said something that required explanation.

“It’s stupid, I was just… curious, I guess,” Kurt replied, leaning back against the counter and pursing his lips. “You just always say ‘we’re going to go do this’ or ‘you’ll never guess who we saw’ or something like that, and I didn’t know if I was interrupting when I text you sometimes because you always seem to be with someone.” He figured that was a more delicate and political way of putting it than asking if Blaine secretly had a boyfriend. Not that it should have mattered.

“Oh.” Blaine was silent for a moment. “Oh! I didn’t even realize I did that. Believe me, you’re never interrupting. If you were, it’s a very welcome interruption. I guess I’m talking about my roommate? Santana – remember her from the bar? We share an apartment.”

Kurt felt a little dense that he hadn’t made the connection – not that Blaine and Santana were roommates, but that they worked at the same bar normally. They’d played together so easily, joked in a way that only came with time spent together, and he’d heard Brittany mention Santana leaving while he was waiting for Blaine at the back door of the bar, but none of it had fit together in his head. “Oh, okay.”

“Yeah, we met back in college. She’s the one that told me about the Big Bang in the first place, actually,” Blaine continued. “Then I was moving out of the dorms and her roommate was leaving and it all just panned out. Do you have a roommate?”

“No, I wouldn’t have anywhere to keep them,” Kurt said, glancing around his apartment. “I have the tiniest little place. I mean, I love it, but there’s no way another person could fit in here.”

“Sometimes I think that would be nice,” Blaine mused. “Not the tininess of the apartment, but the having a place to myself.”

“It is really nice. I don’t have to worry about getting in anyone’s way, dealing with drama, conflicting schedules…”

“See? Now you’re making me want to kick Santana to the curb.”

“Wouldn’t that make work awkward?”

“Get enough tequila in her and I doubt she’d notice.”

“I feel as though that would hinder her ability to play the piano,” Kurt said, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk.

“You’d be surprised.” Blaine paused, and then spoke again much softer. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“Depends on what it is,” Kurt replied, biting his lip.

“If you’re busy I understand and I don’t even know how far away from there you live but, if you’re able, could you stop by the bar sometime this week? Brittany always gets kind of depressed when people visit and leave, and I haven’t heard from her since so I’m worried. Like I said, it’s fine if you can’t, I just thought I’d give it a shot.”

“No, I can,” Kurt said, moving out of the kitchen nook and to his desk, flipping open his planner. “I’m not sure what night, but I can go.”

“Wonderful, thank you. Wednesday or Thursday might be best because they aren’t as busy as the actual weekend nights… but any night would be great.”

“It’s no problem, truly.” He figured Rachel might be up for a trip there anyway, what with her slight obsession with their guitar player. Not that he had much room to talk. “Is that all you need?”

“Not quite. I’m mad at you, you know.”

“Why?” Kurt would have been worried, except Blaine hadn’t actually sounded mad and he hadn’t done anything that he could think of to actually upset him.

“I believe I was promised an opportunity to see some of your designs. Yet here I sit, fashion-less and alone.”

“Excuse me, Blaine, but my designs are not meant to be viewed on a screen that fits in your hand. I’m not about to take pictures of them on my phone and send them in a text. They’re far more nuanced and detailed than that would allow you to see,” Kurt replied haughtily, and he heard Blaine chuckle on the other end. “See? It’s your own fault.”

“How is it my fault?”

“You never gave me a better way to send them to you.”

“You never asked!”

“You’re the one who wants to see them…”

“Oh fine, you win,” Blaine grumbled. “This time. I’ll give you my email, how’s that?”

“Email and regular mail, please,” Kurt said, grabbing a pen.

“Regular mail?”

“You never know when that’ll come in handy to have.”

“Alright fine. Ready?” Blaine rattled off his email and mailing addresses and Kurt scrawled them down on a page in his planner. “Now I expect to see them soon since you have no excuses left.”

“What about the fact that I don’t have a scanner?”

“You’re doing an internship at Vogue,” Blaine countered dryly. “You expect me to believe that in all of that building there isn’t one scanner?”

“Hush.”

“I’m just pointing out the facts, Kurt. You’re the one ignoring them. You hush.”

“I’m going to hang up now.”

“No no no, I didn’t mean for you to do that,” Blaine whined, and Kurt couldn’t help the way his heart leaped a little at that. He’d just been joking, but that didn’t change the fact that his insides had practically lurched at the pleading tone of Blaine’s voice. “Kurt? Did you seriously hang up on me?”

“No,” Kurt said, shaking his head even though Blaine couldn’t see. “I didn’t, but I do have to go.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah, I guess I did kind of… call out of nowhere. Sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize,” Kurt said quickly. “You’re fine. I was the one that texted you, remember? I’m glad you called. I just have some stuff to do, so I have to go. But we’ll talk later.”

“We’ll talk later,” Blaine repeated, and Kurt could practically hear the smile in his voice.

“Have a good night, Blaine.”

“You too, Kurt.”

***

Kurt went to the Big Bang on Wednesday, because Blaine had said midweek would be better than the weekend and honestly, it was the only night he had completely free that week. He wasn’t sure what to do when he got there, though he doubted he was going to lack for any kind of entertainment even without Blaine there, but he didn’t know what Blaine had wanted him to do. Seeing if Brittany was alright, well that was a vague request, and considering he didn’t even know her, he wasn’t sure how well it would work.

The Big Bang wasn’t exactly a bar where someone sat at the actual bar and spent time – there weren’t even bar stools there to use. Kurt still took his satchel with him, which is what he usually took everywhere in life if he knew he was going to have time to work with. The bar may not have been well lit – actually, other than the lights on the stage it was practically dark, but he figured he could take advantage of whatever he could to get some inspiration out onto pages. His sketchbook and pencils lived in his bag, after all, and he was always waiting for inspiration to strike.

Brittany was behind the bar when he got there, and he did his best not to get there right as they opened because he didn’t need to turn into that person, but he did get there early enough that there wasn’t much of a crowd. Then again, it was the middle of the week – and even in New York City, that wasn’t the most profitable night for bars. Still, it meant that there wasn’t much going on and Brittany looked like she was stuck in a pattern of rubbing at the same spot of the counter with a towel.

“That exciting, huh?” Kurt asked as he leaned up against the counter, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Kurt!” Her face lit up a little as she looked over at him, and both his eyebrows raised at that.

“Should I be worried that you remember me so well, or are you just really good at names?”

“Of course I remember you,” Brittany said, rolling her eyes as if it was the most logical thing in the world. “You’re Kurt. What’s not to remember? Did you bring your fruity friend?”

“Rachel? No. She said she might stop by later but her night was pretty busy.”

“Oh.” She bit her lip, looking as though she was concentrating really hard at the new spot on the counter she started rubbing. “Did you want a drink?”

“Sure,” Kurt said, watching her. He might not have known her, at all really, but he could see a big difference from how she’d been the other nights he’d been there. “Do you guys have any special drinks?”

“I think most drinks are special,” Brittany said, shrugging her shoulders a little. “What kind of flavors do you like?”

“I like all flavors, except coconut.”

“No coconut.” She reached under the counter and pulled out a few bottles, looking at them before starting to pour a few different ones in the shaker sitting in front of him. “But you like everything else?”

“Pretty much,” Kurt replied, tilting his head and trying not to think about just how much liquor was being poured into what would inevitably be his drink. He’d just meant to get something simple to sip on, but he wasn’t about to stop her from working her magic – it was her job, after all. “Is this a drink you’ve made before?”

“Nope,” she answered, smacking the lid onto the shaker. “Not for anyone here, but for me before. It’s good, though.”

“I believe you.” Brittany offered him a soft smile as she started shaking it up. That was something else, because he remembered seeing her dancing around behind the bar every time she shook up a drink when Rachel had taken him there. She poured it out into a glass and dropped a maraschino cherry on top before nudging it across the counter at him. “Does it have a name?”

“It’s a Happy Happy Unicorn,” she murmured, pouring the little extra into another glass and taking a sip. “I think it’s the best one I’ve ever made.”

Kurt took a sip and was surprised by how good it actually was. All he’d see was a bunch of liquor and few splashes of different juices going in, but it was delicious and didn’t taste at all like the straight alcohol he’d been expecting. He was fairly certain Rachel would have loved it, even though it wasn’t pink. That realization made him remember what Blaine had said that first night, about how Brittany probably would have agreed with her about drinks that tasted like pink. “This is really good, Brittany.”

“Thanks!”

“Why’s it named that?”

“Oh,” Brittany paused, worrying her lip between her teeth as if she wasn’t sure she should say. “I…if I were an animal, I think I’d be a unicorn, and that drink tastes like what I bet unicorns would like to drink, because I really like it.”

Kurt couldn’t help but smile at that, because as utterly ridiculous as it was, somehow it worked. He pulled out his wallet and held his card out to her, but she shook her head. “What?”

“I made it up, you can just have it,” she said, downing the rest of her little glass and setting it down below the counter. “I wouldn’t know what to charge for it anyway.”

“Well that hardly seems fair since you went to the trouble of making it for me.” Kurt took another sip and watched her. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Brittany wandered away to take an order from someone at the other end of the bar. Kurt felt strange watching her, because it didn’t seem like anyone really hung out by the counter for long once they had their drinks, so felt like he was probably being very obvious. He slipped a few bills out of his wallet and left them on the counter as he glanced around for a place to sit.

There were a few high-top tables by the railing at the edge of the little balcony, so he claimed one for himself and settled in. The lack of patrons seemed to mean that the pianists were mostly playing whatever they wanted, as opposed to requests, and the guys on stage were working their way through a bunch of Beatles songs. He took another sip of his drink and pulled out his sketchbook, shifting around the table so he could use a bit more of the light available.

Kurt had never considered himself good at art. He’d made his way through the required art classes in school, but what they’d done in those hadn’t captured his attention. Painting, particularly, had been on the disastrous side. He’d always drawn in the margins of his notes in his other classes, though, nothing defined or specific but flowing shapes that made more sense than still life and flowers or whatever else they’d been told to draw in art.

To be fair, it had started out selfishly. Once he’d realized that he could draw clothes fairly well, he’d started using that skill to come up with new outfits for himself. He got caught by more than one teacher, sketching the outfit he’d planned on wearing the next day instead of paying attention to their lecture like he should have been. The seed was planted though, and that led to the creation of new things as opposed to just what was in his closet already. By the time he’d gotten rejected from NYADA, Kurt had an entire notebook full of clothes he wished existed. That was how he’d ended up at Parsons.

It didn’t hurt that he’d gotten fairly handy with a sewing machine over the years, customizing clothes as he got them to make them fit or suit him better.

A shadow fell over his sketchbook, making it difficult to see the outfit he’d been working on, and he glanced up to see Brittany standing there, looking down at it with a furrowed brow. “Oh wow, you’re drawing? You’re really good.”

“Thanks,” he said, offering her a smile as he reached for his drink and taking the last sip. “Slow night?”

“It really is,” she said, wrinkling her nose. Her eyes lit up a little a few seconds later. “I know why this looked so familiar!”

“You do?” Kurt asked, eyebrows rising. “I…why?” He was fairly certain he wasn’t ripping anything off; it was just a somewhat deconstructed suit. Of course most suits looked similar, because they were suits and that made them classic and structured. Still, he liked to think that he added little touches to make his unique – not that it would necessarily be obvious through a drawing as it might be when formed with actual fabric.

“It looks like Blaine.” Brittany said it so simply that it caught Kurt off guard. He looked down at the clothes on the page, struggling to see how they matched up. “You remember Blaine, right? He was playing when you were here before, and I’m pretty sure he thought you were cu—”

“No, I know who Blaine is,” Kurt interrupted, cheeks flushing slightly. He didn’t need her to plant any seeds of what Blaine did or didn’t think about him. “I just don’t see the similarity, I guess.”

“Oh well no, because when he’s here he dresses like a normal person,” she replied, shrugging and tapping her finger against the page. “That’s what he looks like when he’s being Blaine.”

“Right.”

“I mean, I don’t normally dress like this either,” she went on, gesturing down to her clothes. Kurt would have hoped not, as there was a time a place for cutoffs that were barely long enough to be considered shorts and a t-shirt that had been shredded artistically and tied back together in just enough places to stay on. Actually, he couldn’t think of that many times or places where that particular outfit was acceptable, but he figured being behind a bar working for tips was one of them. “You probably dress different for you job than you do when you’re just out by yourself, right?”

“A little,” Kurt agreed with a nod, wheels turning in his head. Brittany seemed slightly perkier than she had been when he first got there, and he didn’t want to flatter himself too much but he was fairly certain it was because of him. Well maybe not him but his drawings. “Your drink is amazing, by the way. I think you should make it a special here.”

“Really?” she asked, lighting up. “I made it by mistake one day and I thought it was yummy so I remembered what I did so I could do it again!” She bounced up on the balls of her feet a few times. “I’m glad you like it. Did you want another one?”

“No, I’m about to go, I think,” Kurt said, closing his sketchbook and sliding it back into his satchel along with the pencils he’d had sitting out on the table.

“You are?” Brittany frowned, taking his empty glass off the table and holding it in both her hands. “You’ll come back though, right? I like you, you’re nice. People don’t normally talk to me this much. Well, not unless they’re trying to hit on me or something.”

“Yes.” Kurt nodded, offering her a smile. “I’ll come back. I’m not sure exactly when, but you’ll definitely see me. And thank you,” he added, slipping the strap of his bag over his shoulder. “I think you’re nice, too.”

As soon as Kurt got back to his apartment, he turned on his laptop and scanner. He’d been lying, or rather mostly just joking around, when he told Blaine he didn’t have one. Either way, he flipped open his sketchbook to what he’d been working on that evening, stared down at the page to see if wanted to do anything else to it, and then scanned it in.

To: Blaine Anderson

So, a little bird told me that you don’t normally dress in t-shirts and jeans. Not that there would be anything wrong with it if you did, but let’s face it – that’s hardly cutting edge. I was informed of this fact because apparently tonight I was working on something right up your alley. That being said, and now that I know that you’re an expert in this particular style, you’re going to have to let me know what you think.

Speaking of that little bird, Brittany seems… sad. She was definitely less bubbly than I remember her being, but she seemed alright once we were talking about clothes. In return for my espionage on your behalf, you are now indebted to tell me what type of clothes Brittany usually wears and also her favorite color. I’m assuming you know these things about her since she seems to know such things about you, except we didn’t discuss favorite colors but I would wager a guess she’s aware of yours.
You’re welcome in advance.
Kurt.

When Kurt woke up the next morning, he had a response.

From: Blaine Anderson

Kurt,

I almost called you but then I remembered how some people [you] work normal hours and are probably [hopefully] sleeping at three in the morning.

First of all, thank you so much for going and looking in on Brittany for me. Like I said, she always gets sad when people visit and leave, but if we ask her about it she just says she’s fine and, well, being in Ohio means we can’t really do much to deal with that. It doesn’t surprise me at all that she was interested in talking about clothes – she’s kind of a fashion nut. She had a very eclectic style. In terms of your question of what she normally wears, I’m not really stretching the truth when I say pretty much anything. I say this because I’ve seen her closet. Let me tell you, wow. Any combination of clothes that you wouldn’t think could ever work together? She has them. And she makes them work. That being said, I think she once told me her favorite item of clothing she owns is a particular dress – tea-length and flowing, perfect for running through the park. And in terms of her favorite color? Pink. Mine is red.

Now that business is taken care of…

You drew that? And you did so not knowing that given the chance, I would probably wear it every day of my life in as many different color combinations as I could find? Just trade out the skinny tie for a bow tie and we’re in business. You’re incredibly talented. Also, you’ve been holding out on me. That hurts, Kurt. You’ve had my email address for days and it took Brittany telling you that I would wear your drawing for you to make use of it. Sew me up one of those outfits and put my regular mailing address to use, will you?

Blaine.