Blaine was late. Although Kurt was a little surprised, not to mention a little pissed, he was most of all thankful, because that meant he didn't have to hang up on his father.

"…I just want you know to know how proud we are of you, son. Carole's already bought a frame for the article. I can't wait to brag to the guys down at Dino's that my boy's the one who got the big Superman story."

Kurt couldn't help but blush a little. "Thanks, Dad, but enough about me. How are you? I'm worried about your health, Dad. Carole said that your doctor's appointment last week wasn't your best. She said the doctor told you to cut down on your stress. Dad, I think it's time you retired."

"Kurt, how many times do I have to tell you? I'm fine. Your stepmother and that quack doctor are paranoid. I have put my life into that shop, Kurt, I'm not ready to hand it over to Finn yet," his father argued.

"While I understand the hesitancy to trust Finn with anything, let alone the product of thirty years' worth of your blood, sweat, and tears, you should at least dial back the hours you spend there, Dad, or maybe stick to the office."

"Tell you what," Burt began. "I'll cut back on my workaholic tendencies when cut back on yours and visit home again."

"Dad," Kurt whined. "That's not fair. I didn't have a heart attack and with things so crazy at work now that's Superman in the picture, the earliest I might be able to get back to Ohio is at the end of the summer."

"Well then, there you have it," Burt remarked.

"Ugh, I'm not arguing with you anymore, Dad," Kurt declared, opting for a change of subject before things got too heated, "How's Finn?"

"Oh you know, he's hanging in."

"Fighting with Quinn again, I assume?"

"It seems that's all those two do nowadays," Burt sighed. "Especially with that pregnancy scare they had a while ago. I tell ya, for a girl as pretty as Quinn, she can sure yell."

Kurt snorted. "Well, if her reign as head cheerleader at McKinley is any indicator, I can only imagine how ugly things have gotten."

"You know, I'm glad Finn hasn't proposed," Burt divulged. "In all honesty, I don't think they're going to make it."

"Oh Dad, it's just the Finn-Quinn relationship cycle. I've watched it since high school. They'll be all over each other again in no time flat."

"Whatever you say, Kurt," Burt conceded. "What's a handsome, successful guy like yourself in that big city doing tonight to celebrate your big story?"

"I was going to go out for drinks with Mercedes, Sam, Tina, and Mike, but I'd already made plans with some guy from work," Kurt told his father. He checked the time on the TV, ten after eight. Blaine was crossing into rude territory.

"Oh, is this guy you're…um…"

"No," Kurt quickly answered. "I'm really only going out with him as a pity-date."

"Well, either way, I hope you have a good time. I'm glad you're not holing up in your apartment and working like you always do."

"Dad, I don't always do that," Kurt contended. He had gone clubbing…Kurt stopped to think…two months ago? "But I'm not sure if this date will be any better than a night of Anderson Cooper 360 and researching."

"Just remember, Kurt, you matter," his father reminded him. It's like I'm still in high school, Kurt scoffed. "Um, son? The game's on and…"

"Talk to you later, Dad," Kurt said, getting the hint.

"Love you, son," Burt told his son earnestly.

"You too, Dad," he replied with equal sincerity. Kurt hung up and checked his appearance in the mirror. He'd had a decidedly less difficult time picking out an outfit for tonight's date and Kurt hadn't done anything special with his hair. He flopped down on the couch and drummed his fingers absently on the arm of the couch.

A few minutes later, the doorman buzzed to notify that Blaine had made it. Kurt gave Frank the okay to send him up, and a couple more minutes passed before Kurt heard the frantic knocking on his door that signaled Blaine's arrival. He opened it to reveal a very out-of-breath Blaine, who was hunched over, hands bracing his knees.

"Kurt," he panted. "I am so sorry. There was traffic…the West Side highway was a nightmare…and I ended up running the last couple of blocks…guess I'm more out of shape than I thought and, I am so sorry—"

"Blaine," Kurt cut him off. "It's okay, seriously. No need to give yourself a heart attack."

"I-I got you flowers," said Blaine, holding out a bouquet that Kurt hadn't noticed before. "I hope you like calla lilies."

Kurt stared at him incredulously.

Blaine interpreted his expression as one of aversion. "Oh no, you don't like them! I'm sorry, I just thought roses were kind of trite, and carnations are tacky and I'll buy you another bouquet if you want—"

"Blaine! Just shut…be quiet. Calla lilies are…my favorite, actually. I was just surprised you got them, that's all," Kurt explained.

Blaine exhaled a dramatic sigh of relief. "Oh, well, lucky guess, I suppose," he shrugged his shoulders and adjusted his glasses. "So, I guess we should get going then, I'd hate for us to be late for our reservations."

"Right," Kurt replied, taking the flowers from Blaine. "I'll put these in some water and we can go."

Blaine chuckled to himself and allowed his nerdy façade to drop momentarily while Kurt was in the kitchen tending to the flowers. He removed his glasses to clean them with the hem of his shirt, and considered leaving them off when Kurt returned and just telling him the truth.

"Kurt, I…" he began, his voice in its normal register, not the slightly higher and more nasally one Blaine used at The Daily Planet. But as soon as Kurt turned the corner and came back into view, Blaine shoved his glasses back onto his face and switched his tone, "…I-I um, think that you look very nice…I like your outfit."

"Thanks, Blaine," answered Kurt. "You clean up pretty nicely yourself."

It was true. Blaine was dressed in a navy blue dress shirt that actually seemed to be ironed for once, paired with simple black dress pants and belt. The ensemble subtly showed off the figure Kurt didn't know Blaine had, his body was always concealed in those bulky blazers and ill-fitting slacks at work. His hair was as wild as ever, but if Blaine maybe used a good product his curls would look rather becoming, and of course he was wearing his trusty over-sized glasses, but if he swapped them with slimmer square-framed ones or contacts, Blaine would actually look good. Kurt frowned in surprise and confusion at the thought. Blaine…attractive…what? Kurt shook his head to clear the troubling notion from his mind.

Frank had a cab waiting for them when they reached the lobby of Kurt's building. Both men thanked the doorman, and Blaine held the door for Kurt.

"Where to?" the driver asked, his voice tinged with a foreign accent like every cabbie in Metropolis.

"155 West 51st Street, between 6th and 7th," Blaine told the driver.

Kurt's eyebrows shot upward in surprise, the location Blaine just recited was in a conspicuously nice area of the city. "Where exactly are we going?"

"Le Bernadin," Blaine replied. Kurt's eyes bulged a tad in surprise. Le Bernadin was one of the top French restaurants in Metropolis. Blaine chuckled in a manner that was strangely familiar and said, "You didn't really strike me as the kind of guy that'd want to grab a burger."

"Yeah, um, you're right about that," Kurt stuttered out in reply. Blaine was becoming more and more baffling by the second.

Silence (apart from the cab driver jabbering in his native tongue on his Bluetooth) permeated the taxi for a few moments before Blaine asked Kurt, "So…have you been enjoying your weekend?"

"I guess so. I spent the day looking into a few sources for the explosion story and did a little more research into the missile robbery, but it was pretty uneventful."

"Jiminy Crickets, Kurt! You sure work hard!" marveled Blaine.

"Yeah well, they don't give Pulitzers to just anyone," Kurt responded before he could catch himself. Being bitchy to Blaine had kind of become a reflex at this point, but now since Blaine was taking him to the sixth most expensive restaurant in Metropolis, Kurt was going to having to ease up on the snide comments. "Um, how has your Saturday been?"

"Oh, pretty boring. I just ran some errands," Blaine told him nonchalantly.

They had reached the restaurant by that point, Blaine insisting to the pay the cab fare, and then escorting Kurt inside. They were speedily seated by a leggy hostess whose once-over of Blaine's backside was not missed by Kurt (what was it with women and Blaine's butt?). The hostess's leer caused something unpleasant to twist and tighten in Kurt's chest and before he knew it, he was shooting her his patented "back off, bitch" glare. Not that Kurt had ever really used it for a guy before, usually he only whipped it out when he was shopping at sample sales or someone was trying to take his spot in Yoga class. Nevertheless, the woman seemed to get the message, and didn't linger in giving the men their menus before skedaddling back to her podium.

Blaine's voice brought Kurt back to the moment. "I know absolutely nothing about French cuisine, so I'm going to need your help with ordering." He was surveying the menu as if it had been written in hieroglyphics.

"Nothing?" And you identify as homosexual?

"Does seeing the movie Julie/Julia count?"

Kurt burst out into laughter at the question and Blaine joined in shortly after. "Never fear, Blaine, I've got you covered."

Kurt gave Blaine a brief lesson on French food and they discussed the menu until their waiter, a polite elderly gentleman, arrived. Kurt ordered for the couple effortlessly, the French names of the meals tumbling from his lips so fluently that Blaine had to resist the urge to rest his chin in his hand and just unabashedly admire the man across from him. He wished he wasn't wearing the damn glasses and that he could lean across the table and kiss Kurt like he so badly wanted to, like he had last night. Luckily Kurt had asked him a question, a welcome distraction from his brewing frustration over his alter-ego situation. "Pardon?"

"I was wondering how long have you lived in Metropolis for?" Kurt reiterated his query.

"Not very long, I moved into my place right before I started at The Planet," Blaine answered. "What about you."

"Over ten years now, I went to school at Columbia," Kurt replied, trying to sound as casual and not-braggy as possible.

"C-Columbia, wow," Blaine said.

"Yeah, I didn't sleep for four years. What's your alma mater?"

"Ohio State," Blaine replied, sounding a tad inferior.

"Oh, that's a good school," Kurt encouraged. Damn it, why do I always come off as a patronizing bitch?

"My love for the Buckeyes aside, I um, couldn't go too far from home," explained Blaine.

"Why not?"

Blaine hesitated, debating whether he should tell Kurt the truth or not. He didn't want to look like he was playing the pity card, but Blaine loathed lying, and Kurt didn't deserve Blaine lying to his face any more than he already had. "My dad passed my senior year of high school and I felt terrible leaving my aging mother to look after the farm all by herself. Sorry, I didn't mean to depress you or anything."

"No, it's fine, Blaine, I understand. My…my mom died when I was eight."

"Oh Kurt, I'm so sorry! You were so young and—"

"Blaine, it's okay, it's not like it was your fault," Kurt assured him. He couldn't help but find it vaguely endearing how genuinely apologetic Blaine was. They exchanged a meaningful look that made Kurt shiver, and not shiver from revulsion or awkwardness, shiver from…something else.

"Um…did we just bond?" Blaine asked.

Kurt couldn't contain the bout of laughter that that statement triggered. "I uh, guess we did. May I propose a change to a less morbid subject?"

Blaine flashed his eye-scrunching smile. "Certainly."

They lapsed into conversation much more easily than Kurt would have expected. They traded crazy college anecdotes, shared favorites (movies, musicals, music, books), and reveled in the superior quality of the meal (some of Kurt's appreciative moans while he was sampling his food made Blaine thankful that the tastefully decorated table was obstructing the view of his nether regions). As dinner came to a close, Kurt sat in his seat surprised that what he had predicted to be a painful evening had actually turned out to be his best date ever. He wasn't sure how that had happened exactly, but somehow all of Blaine's little quirks had become…cute. Am I really falling for Blaine Anderson? Kurt mused as the waiter approached the table with their (undoubtedly astronomical) bill. Or was the wine just really good?

Kurt shifted himself to retrieve his wallet, but Blaine noticed and immediately stopped him. "Don't be silly, Kurt. I'm taking care of this."

"Blaine…"

"Kurt…"

"Blaine!"

"Kurt!"

"I really don't like to get bogged down in all that heteronormative stuff," Kurt insisted, trying to sound rational and mature.

"My mom would be mad at me if I didn't pay, Kurt," Blaine countered, sliding his credit card into the small leather folder.

"Well then, for Mrs. Anderson's sake," Kurt conceded.

"Thank you, Kurt," Blaine grinned and passed the check to the waiter.

"No, thank you, Blaine," Kurt urged. "Tonight was really nice."

"Do I detect a hint of surprise?" Blaine inquired.

"No! It's just…well, this is such a nice restaurant and…I mean, this is a first date and—"

Blaine held up his hand to stop Kurt's rambling like he did that afternoon when Kurt had flipped out at him over the smoking thing. "It's okay, Kurt. It's not like I have any illusions of how people see me at work…it's just—I really, really care about you …and I didn't want to screw this up."

"Blaine," Kurt was overwhelmed by his date's sincerity. "This was the best date I've ever been on."

Blaine perked up infinitesimally. "Really? You mean that?"

"Absolutely." The confidence in Kurt's tone left no room for doubt. And…there's the signature smile. For once, Blaine's beam didn't make Kurt want throw up in his mouth a little, but rather it filled him with a pleasant satisfaction.

The waiter returned with Blaine's credit card, Blaine signed the check and calculated the tip before returning his attention to Kurt. "Let's push off, shall we?"

Kurt tried really hard not laugh at Blaine's awful phrasing, but was unsuccessful. He followed Blaine through the restaurant and back out onto the street. They had reached the most awkward part of the evening, where neither man was sure if they should just say good night, or offer to go get drinks, or if one was feeling extra bold, invite the other to their back to their apartment.

"Thanks for dinner, Blaine," Kurt began.

Gosh, his lips look delicious…cut it out, Blaine! Blaine tried to shake himself from his Kurt-induced haze. "You're welcome." Say goodnight, Blaine, say goodnight...

"Hey Kurt?"

"Yes?" Blaine tried desperately to ignore the hint of hopefulness in his tone.

Stop Blaine, just fix your glasses and say goodnight. Do not, under any circumstances, suggest you go get drinks—

"There's, um, there's this bar that I like to go not too far from here…and I was wondering if maybe you, you know—"

"Sure."

Blaine's eyes snapped up from his loafers to meet Kurt's. "Really?"

"Why not? It's only—" Kurt checked his watch, "quarter after ten."

"Oh-okay, neat," Blaine grasped Kurt's hand and tugged the slightest amount. "Well, come on then, I'll show you the way."

Kurt didn't reply, but just blindly followed Blaine as he towed him down the city street, his eyes fixed on where his hand was intertwined with Blaine's. Much like everything else that happened tonight, holding hands with Blaine wasn't at all like Kurt had expected—not that Kurt had ever fantasized about what it would be like to hold hands with him—but if he had to have guessed, Kurt would expect that Blaine's hand would have been clammy and his grasp would have been limp like a wet noodle, but in reality his hand was soft and warm (but not sweaty) while his grip was strong without being bone-crushing. Kurt studied each storefront; he wondered where Blaine would stop, what kind of bar it would be. Oh Gaga, I hope it's not some tacky gay bar because that would just be awful…

"Here it is," announced Blaine.

Kurt gazed up and read the sign. Oh no, this is way worse than a tacky gay bar…

Blaine sensed Kurt's distaste and instantly tried to convince him otherwise. "I um, I know this isn't what you were expecting…honestly, I think karaoke is pretty cheesy too, but it's just…my first day at The Planet you said you were in show choir back in high school too…so I guess I just thought this was something we would enjoy together."

And we couldn't have enjoyed a Bailey's Irish Cream together in small, cozy café? Kurt quipped inwardly, he wanted to voice his thought, but Blaine had been so nice to him and…"Okay, just don't expect me to sing or anything."

"No-no, of course not," Blaine promised. "We can just laugh at the drunk college students and tourists."

For a karaoke bar, Top Tunes was surprisingly upscale. The interior was entirely black with sleek, modern white accents and dim lighting that slowly changed colors. There was a stage at the end of the bar, where three obviously shit-faced college-aged girls were belting out a very off-key rendition of 's "Waiting for Tonight", and a few tables scattered to the right of the bar.

Kurt and Blaine sidled up to the bar, Blaine ordered a Heineken while Kurt stuck to water. There was no way in hell Kurt was going to be coaxed on stage with alcohol, he was perfectly content with mocking the sorority girls and whatever other idiots wanted to publicly humiliate themselves on that—

"I think I'm going to do one," Blaine whispered to him.

"What?" Kurt glanced at the stage and saw that The Musketeers were stumbling off the stage, all tripping over each other and cackling wildly. "No, Blaine, don't—"

But it was too late. Blaine was already heading up to the stage while Dumb, Dumber, and Dumbest collapsed at the bar to Kurt's left.

"MORE TEQUILA!" One slurred.

"Ladies, I think you've had enough," the bartender said. Jeez, you know when the bartender at a freaking karaoke bar cuts you off that you are beyond hammered.

Kurt was pulled out of his reverie when the opening chords of the song Blaine had chosen began to drift through the speakers. He grimaced and rolled his eyes, because really? You couldn't get more creative than Katy Perry? Kurt was fully prepared to pretend not to know Blaine for the next three minutes or so but everything changed when Blaine began to sing.

Kurt could barely believe that this mellifluous voice belonged to Blaine. He quickly whipped his head from where he had been concentrating on his water glass to the stage. There was Blaine, completely at ease, doing a little side-step as he crooned the opening verse of "Teenage Dream". Kurt gawked at him in utter shock, his eyes wide as saucers and his mouth agape. I mean, I know he mentioned that he was in an acapella group in high school and college, but never in a million years did I ever think—

Blaine pointed straight at Kurt on the "you" opened the first chorus. Blaine is serenading me…Blaine fucking Anderson is fucking serenading me…and I'm liking it. Kurt's face split into the widest grin he could physically manage and bopped along to the beat, enjoying the performance. Blaine was side-stepping with more fervor now and Kurt's stomach flipped when he pivoted as he sang "don't ever look back, don't ever look back". Blaine was so immersed in performing and Kurt was immersed in watching Blaine perform that it felt like they were two people in the—

"OH MY GOD!"

"OH MY GOD, I KNOW!"

"HE IS SO CUTE!"

"I KNOW, I JUST WANT TO PINCH HIS CHEEKS!"

"I WANT TO PINCH HIS ASS CHEEKS!"

"OH MY GOD, EVIE! YOU ARE SUCH A SLUT!"

Well, almost. But not even a trio of drunk college girls could detract from Kurt watching Blaine, who had moved on the second verse by now. He didn't seem to notice the girls either, all Blaine seemed capable of was doing little movements and gestures that made Kurt want to barf up his five-hundred dollar meal and stare at Kurt with a penetrating intensity as he suggested "let's go all the way tonight."

"I WOULD SO GO ALL THE WAY WITH HIM!"

"ME TOO! I'D EVEN PAY MONEY IF I HAD TO! A WHOLE SEMESTER'S WORTH OF MET U TUTION! THAT'S LIKE SIXTY THOUSANDS DOLLARS."

"UGH, I JUST WANT TO RIP OFF ALL OF HIS CLOTHES!"

"OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! HE JUST POINTED AT ME! HE LOVES ME THE MOST!"

"SHUT UP, VICKY! HE LOVES ME THE MOST!"

"NUH-UH!"

"YUH-HUH!"

"NUH-UH!"

Unfortunately, Blaine had reached the part of the song where it goes quiet for a few seconds, so Kurt could make out the girls' calling each other a dumb whore while the other retaliated with a scathing accusation that Vicky only passed Physics last semester because she slept with her TA.

As soon as Blaine belted out a very impressive "yeaaaaah", Kurt was fully engrossed in the song again. No one had ever sung him a love song before. Kurt rather liked it. He was pretty sure he could get used to people singing love songs to him, or maybe just Blaine Anderson.

The song was wrapping up now, Kurt almost fell off his seat when Blaine did this waggly thing with those glorious caterpillar eyebrows of his on the final "Imma get your heart racing in my skin tight jeans". Kurt wasn't sure about Blaine, but his heart was mostly certainly racing in his skin tight jeans (okay, so they were technically trousers, but that was so beside the point).

The song ended and Blaine received several loud whoops from the Three Smashed Amigos and Kurt's frantic applause. He grinned widely and hopped off the stage and strode over to Kurt.

"So, what'd you think?" he asked in maddeningly nonchalant manner, as if he was asking Kurt if he preferred salmon to tuna.

Kurt was speechless. All he could think about was how close Blaine's lips were, his unexpectedly full lips, and how easy it would be to just lean in and—

"OH MY GOD!"

"OH MY GOD, YOU WERE SO GOOD!"

"LIKE REALLY, REALLY GOOD!"

"YOU SHOULD BE ON AMERICAN IDOL…PAULA WOULD THINK YOU WERE SO HOT!"

"NOELLE! PAULA'S NOT ON AMERICAN IDOL ANYMORE! DUH!"

The three screaming girls were the wakeup call Kurt needed to bring him back to reality. He needed to stop flipping out. Blaine had sung a song. True, he had sung it really well and looked really good while he was doing it, but Kurt needed to get his wits together. He knew he shouldn't have had so much wine back at Le Benardin. "It seems you have a fan club," he remarked.

Blaine laughed lightly. "Um, yeah." He addressed the girls. "Uh, thanks?"

"OH MY GOD, EVIE HE TALKED TO ME! WHAT SHOULD I DO?"

"WHATEVER YOU DO, DON'T ASK HIM TO HAVE SEX WITH YOU YET! YOU'LL LOOK DESPERATE!"

"DID I MENTION THAT YOU WERE REALLY GOOD?"

"YOU SHOULD TOTALLY SING ANOTHER SONG!"

"TOTALLY! YES! NOW!"

"DO YOU KNOW S&M BY RIHANNA?"

Kurt snorted a laugh at Noelle's song request and Blaine actually choked on his beer a little. Blaine looked at Kurt, who simple shrugged good-naturedly. "Don't want to disappoint your fans."

"YAY!"

"THANK YOU THANK YOU…WAIT, WHAT'S YOUR NAME?"

"Kurt," he told Vicky. "And that's Blaine."

"BLAAAAAAAAAINE! WE LOVE YOU BLAINE!"

"SING US ANOTHER SONG BLAINE!"

"PLEEEEEEEEEASE BLAINE! I'LL SHOW YOU MY BOOBS!"

"That, um, won't be necessary," Blaine spluttered. "I'll just go pick out another song." He winked at Kurt and left for the stage. Why does this feel so familiar?

Blaine's pick began to play, and Kurt quickly identified it as "I'm Not Going to Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance with You". Blaine was significantly more confident now that he had a few groupies. He was dancing all over the place, goofing it up like only he could, jiving all over the place while holding the microphone and sliding his hands down the stand in an oddly arousing fashion.

"Oh Kurtsie," Vicky slurred, throwing an arm around him, her voice finally at a somewhat normal volume. "Isn't he the bestest?"

"Yeah," Kurt replied, not paying much attention to the drunk coed clinging to his shoulder, but studying Blaine reverently. "He is pretty wonderful."

He giggled along with the girls throughout the rest of the song, and Blaine was met with more cheers and applause when he finished. Blaine had barely returned to the bar before the girls were already demanding more.

"AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN!"

"COME ON BLAINEY! YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO!"

"Actually," Blaine countered, "I want to see Kurt do a song."

Kurt glared daggers at his date while the girls squealed in agreement.

"BLAINEY! WHAT A WONDERFUL IDEA!"

"COME ON KURTSIE! SING FOR US!"

"Girls…" Kurt began, knowing that his protests would be worthless.

"IT'S JUST ONE SONG KURTSIE!"

"I'LL SHOW YOU MY BOOBS!"

"Evie, no," But the girls was already hiking up her shirt. "Okay, okay! I'm going!"

Blaine watched as Kurt as he trudged up to the stage and began scanning through the karaoke machine for a song.

"So Blaine," Noelle said, trying to be seductive, but not having much success in her inebriated state. "I'm going to give you my phone number."

"That's very sweet, but I'm not on your team," Blaine told her gently.

"Not on my team? Listen Blaine, it's okay if you like the Jets, you're such a hot hottie that I'll—"

"That's not what I meant," Blaine interrupted her. "I'm gay."

"WHAT?" She screeched. "NOT FAIR!"

"Wait," Evie had joined the conversation. "Is that why you ran away when I tried to show you my boobs?"

"Precisely," Blaine chuckled.

"OOOOOOOOOH, that makes more sense, I just thought you were one of those scared virgin types."

Kurt had made his selection by that point and the "Blackbird" began to play. Blaine immediately approved of the song choice, it was hard to go wrong with the Beatles, and turned to face Kurt fully.

Kurt started to sing and Blaine's breath caught in his throat. He sounded like an angel—Kurt sounded like an angel. Blaine gazed at Kurt with dreamy eyes and the slightest smile on his lips, mesmerized by his singing. He was just so expressive, so vulnerable, so honest…It was at that moment he knew, Blaine had fallen in love with Kurt Hummel.

"You were only waiting for this moment to arrive."

Noelle, Vicky, Evie, and Blaine didn't say anything until Kurt had returned to the bar. He regarded them with a bit of confusion, they had all gone crazy for Blaine, hadn't they?

"That bad, huh?"

"No no no no NO! Kurt, that was like amazing," Vicky raved.

"You took my soul to another place," added Evie. Was she wiping her eyes?

"PLEASE don't tell me you're gay too."

Kurt shrugged. "Guilty as charged."

"NOT FAIR!" Noelle wailed again. "I HATE GAY PEOPLE! I mean, I don't hate gay people, but it's just not fair when they're so delicious like you two!"

Kurt ignored her and focused on Blaine instead, he hadn't said anything. "You okay, Blaine? I didn't bore you to death, did I?"

Blaine shuddered out of his thoughts and replied to Kurt. "No! No…that…th-that was really good, Kurt. It was nice…and stuff."

Kurt cocked an eyebrow at Blaine but chalked it up to Blaine just being his inarticulate self.

"OH MY GOD! GUYS! I JUST HAD LIKE THE BEST IDEA EVERRRRRRRR!" shrieked Vicky, bouncing up and down on her bar stool.

"What's that?" Kurt asked.

"You two should make out," Vicky said, deadly serious. "It would be like the hottest thing ever."

Both men flushed bright red and looked at their shoes.

"I, uh," Blaine coughed. "I don't think that would be…appropriate."

"Why not? I make out with other girls all the time, and I'm not even a lesbian."

"How 'bout we sing another song?" Kurt proposed, desperate to change the subject and distract the girls. He grabbed Blaine and dragged him away from the trio, "Come on Blaine, let's sing them a song."

"Oh-okay," Blaine mumbled as Kurt brought him up to the stage.

They approached the machine and began to scan through the thousands of choices.

"Ooh! What about this one?" Blaine suggested.

"Cruisin'?" Kurt asked, his tone colored with disapproval.

"What, you don't like the song?"

"It's pretty sappy," Kurt admitted. "I did have a substitute teacher once back in high school that looked so much Gwyneth Paltrow it was a little unsettling however." Kurt scanned through the songs a little more. "Oh! What about this one?"

Blaine squinted a little through his glasses to read the title and artist. Once he did, he broke out into everyone's favorite dopey smile. "Yeah, I really like this one."

Kurt entered the two dollars for the song and joined Blaine over by the microphones. Just as the lyrics were going to start, Kurt nodded to Blaine, who nodded back in comprehension and sang the opening verse.

Here we go again, I kind of wanna be more than friends

So take it easy on me, I'm afraid you're never satisfied.

Then Blaine nodded to Kurt.

Here we go again, we're sick like animals, we play pretend

You're just a cannibal and I'm afraid I won't get out alive.

No, I won't sleep tonight.

Blaine joined in for the chorus.

Oh, oh I want some more

Oh, oh what are you waiting for?

Take a bite of my heart tonight.

Oh, oh I want some more

Oh, oh what are you waiting for?

Say goodbye to my heart tonight.

Kurt took the opening of the second verse.

Here we are again, I feel the chemicals kickin' in

It's getting heavy and I wanna run and hide, I wanna run and hide

He relinquished the next part to Blaine, since he was starting to get uncomfortable in regard to how accurate the song was to describing his feelings about Blaine right about now.

I do it every time, you're killin' me now

And I won't be denied by you, the animal inside of you

And apparently Blaine's feelings about me, Kurt added in his head as he and Blaine began to sing the chorus yet again.

Oh, oh I want some more

Oh, oh what are you waiting for?

Take a bite of my heart tonight.

Oh, oh I want some more

Oh, oh what are you waiting for?

Say goodbye to my heart tonight.

Kurt tried his best to power through the weirdness and just get through the next part.

Hush, hush the world is quiet

Hush, hush we both can't fight it

Blaine was doing his little sexy movements again and Kurt kind of wanted to punch him.

It's us that made this mess

Why can't you understand?

Woah, I won't sleep tonight

I won't sleep tonight

Kurt tried not to get sucked in by Blaine's goofy, sexy energy, but he couldn't help but join in on the silly dance moves during the instrumental break.

Here we go again, here we go again

Oh, oh I want some more

Oh, oh what are you waiting for?

Take a bite of my heart tonight.

Oh, oh I want some more

Oh, oh what are you waiting for?

Say goodbye to my heart tonight.

The song ended and Kurt and Blaine were left facing each other, panting with exhilaration, staring at each other's lips.

"GRAB HIS CROTCH!"

Mood effectively ruined, Blaine concluded as he turned away and descended the stairs.

"Are you sure that you two don't want to kiss each other?" Vicky sing-songed. "It would be fuuuuuun!"

"Um yeah," Kurt answered, the awkwardness was nearly suffocating. "We actually have to go."

"We do?" Blaine questioned, totally oblivious as always.

Kurt elbowed his ribcage, not expecting the wall of his torso to be so solid. What, does he have a steel plate under there? The shorter man got the message however. "Oh, yeah, um Kurt was going to give me interior design tips for my apartment…since you know I just moved in…well about two months ago actually…but I really haven't found the time to decorate and—"

"Yeah!" Kurt exclaimed, saving himself and the girls from Blaine's agonizing rambling. "It's been fun!"

"! YOU CAN'T LEAVE US! WE LOOOOOOVE YOOUUUUU!" Noelle sobbed as Blaine fished a ten-dollar bill and passed it to the bartender, telling him to keep the change.

"Sorry, girls," Blaine said, backing toward the door with Kurt. "Be careful getting home."

They stumbled out of the bar, laughing heartily into the night air.

"I should probably do it, you know," Kurt said once they had calmed down enough to take normal breaths.

"Do what?"

"Go to your apartment." Blaine's eyes seemed to pop out of his head. Kurt instantly covered for himself, "To give you design tips! Because I have really good taste and you're, no offense, you're kind of—"

"Hopeless?" Blaine completed Kurt's sentence.

Kurt blushed slightly. "Yeah, but I'm sure it's not that bad though."

"I'll let you be the judge of that," Blaine chuckled, strolling to the end of the street and trying to hail a cab. No cabs stopped.

"Here, let me," Kurt offered and then whistled loudly. A taxi pulled over to them immediately. Blaine gave him a sheepish smile.

They spent the car ride making fun of the Blaine and Kurt's groupies, giggling uncontrollably for nearly ten minutes straight. The cab pulled up to Blaine's building, a charming Brownstone on 72nd street, and Kurt managed to convince Blaine to let him pay the fare.

Blaine's apartment was modest, considerably smaller than Kurt's and was sparsely decorated, but Kurt didn't think it was hopeless like Blaine had said. He gave the reporter a tour of the place (which only took about 3 minutes) that ended in the kitchen.

"What's the verdict?" Blaine inquired as he opened the refrigerator to procure them a couple bottles of water.

"It definitely has potential, oh, thank you," Kurt told him, accepting the water. "I'm thinking a color scheme with lots of blues and browns, to play up the fantastic crown molding this place has and…"

Kurt trailed off. He couldn't tear his eyes from Blaine's lips again. It was getting a little annoying, actually, Kurt knew he'd go crazy next week if he had to sit across from Blaine at work not knowing if those lips were as soft and full as they seemed to be. It'd just be a quick kiss, just so Kurt could get it out of his system, he was probably hyping it up too much anyway…

Kurt pressed his lips to Blaine's. Blaine made a small surprised noise in the back of his throat at the contact. His mouth was unresponsive, which Kurt took as a challenge, and moved to deepen the kiss, then Blaine at last began to reciprocate. His movements were so tentative and unsure, nothing like Superman's broad, confident—

Superman.

Kurt hadn't thought of the hero at all that night, since he hadn't really thought that Blaine was going to give him any competition whatsoever, but Kurt had assumed that before the fancy dinner, before Blaine's serenading, before their duet. He was torn. Blaine was sweet and endearing, and by no means a bad kisser, but it lacked the passion he shared with Superman. On the other hand, Kurt barely knew Superman. Sure, no one really knew Superman, and he knew him better than anyone else did, but was that enough? He did say that he'd see him again…

"I can't," Kurt gasped as he pulled his lips from Blaine's.

"Wh-what?" Blaine exhaled. "Kurt, what's wrong?"

"I can't do this Blaine," he elaborated. "I'm confused…there's som—I just can't give all of myself to you, Blaine…and you're such a nice guy, and don't get me wrong, I like you…more than I thought I was going to, actually, but—"

"Who is it?" Blaine asked, his voice taking on an imposing quality that Kurt had never heard before. It scared him a little.

"What?"

"Who's the other guy?"

Kurt didn't want to lie to Blaine, it would make him feel more awful than he already did, but he couldn't tell Blaine that the other guy was Superman. Blaine would send him to the loony bin in two seconds flat.

"You don't know him." There. That wasn't a lie.

"What's his name?" Blaine pressed.

Kurt squirmed. "Blaine, I don't want to—"

"I think I deserve to know," Blaine demanded. When did Blaine become all intimidating? I didn't think he had an intimidating bone in his body.

"You won't believe me!" exclaimed Kurt "You're going to think I'm crazy!"

"Try me."

Their eyes locked in an intense stare down.

"Promise not to laugh?"

"Of course," Blaine replied, his tone softening again.

Kurt inhaled deeply. I can't believe I'm actually going to tell him. I'm going to tell Blaine I have a thing with Superman.

"Superman," Kurt confessed in a small voice, his eyes trained on the cheap tile of Blaine's kitchen floor.

"Oh Kurt," Blaine said, chuckling lightly. "Thank goodness."

"What?" Kurt snapped, whipping his head up to look at him. "Thank goodness? What the hell is that supposed to mean? And you're laughing! You said you wouldn't laugh!"

"Kurt," Blaine began his voice deeper than before, taking Kurt's hands into his. "There's something I need to tell you."

Kurt snatched his hands out of Blaine's grip. "And what would that be, exactly?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to say anything yet, but you look so conflicted, and after the kiss, I…I can't keep this from you anymore. Here, hold these."

Blaine passed Kurt his glasses and swiftly turned his back to Kurt before he could get a good look at him. Kurt heard the sink turn on, and his eyes, which had become unfocused and bleary from the heated turn the conversation had taken, discerned that Blaine was wetting his hands and then working them into his hair. Why Blaine was playing with his hair was beyond Kurt's comprehension. Could this evening get anymore bizarre?

"Okay," Blaine was beginning to pivot around to face Kurt again. "Try not to freak out…"

Why would I freak out because you slicked down your…

Kurt froze at the sight before him. He couldn't move a muscle from head to toe even if he wanted to. He had to remember how to breathe.

"You're…you're…"

"I am."

"What color is my underwear?"

"Grey."

Then the world went black.