The pipes creak loudly, the sound piercing through Blaine's sleepy haze. Groaning he buries his head deeper into the pillow, limbs spreading wider. The mattress is cold. It always is. Blaine has never liked mornings. Back in high school waking up meant facing his parents all over again – his father hidden behind a newspaper at the kitchen table and his mother fussing over the state of his hair. It meant another day spent toning himself down. Dalton was safe and accepting, as were the Warblers, but there were scars on Blaine's body to remind him that the world had a problem with who he was.



The alarm clock joins the creaking pipes and Blaine surrenders to the evidence that he really needs to wake up. The shooting is scheduled for 2 pm, but he still has to work on "Serendipity". Blaine has been working on that song for almost a month. There is still something that eludes him, though. Like water running through your fingers. And then there's lunch with Sam. They were supposed to meet last Saturday, but Santana had called him sounding pretty desperate and a train trip to Montauk with a bag full of DVDs and sweets was in order.



Thoughts still muffled by sleep, Blaine pads over to the kitchenette. The mocha is a present from Cooper. When finally Blaine managed to raise enough money to pay the rent for a room in a shared flat and moved out of Santana's house, Cooper sent a package to his new address. There was a card that read: You've made it, squirt. One more step closer to the star you'll surely become. Blaine has it tucked to the corkboard in his bedroom. As he waits for the coffee to be ready, he busies himself gathering the music sheets he has left scattered all over the living room floor.



His house is not big, nor fancy. Cooper always tells him he could afford a much better apartment. Somewhere fancy like Chelsea, with beautiful buildings and that "movie atmosphere". But this is the first flat he rented with his own money – the money he made thanks to his gigs alone, before stumbling in the world of fashion and modeling. The building is old and part of the paint has come off due to time and sea wind. It doesn't matter in the least.



Blaine is strumming his guitar, no coffee left in his mug when his mobile phone skitters over the coffee table.



"Hello?"



"Hey, bro!"



"Good morning, Sam."



"Watcha doing?"



Blaine holds the phone close to the guitar and strums.



"Oh being all creative, then."



"Well, I am trying."



"You remember our lunch, right?"



"Of course I do."



"Don't go all preppy school boy on me, B. You've canceled like a thousand times in the past month."



Blaine sighs. He always feel guilty when he lets people down. He knows it is ridiculous to feel that way when it comes to his closest friends; they all know he is busy. Still, Blaine has never coped well with disappointing people. That's why he struggled so much when he was a kid – to be a good student, to be a good soloist, to be the one who always smiled and had a comforting word to offer. He still does. When he feels the photographer's gaze on him, Blaine puts everything he has got in following their directions the best that he can.



"I am so sorry, Sam."



"Wow, bro. It's alright. I was joking! I know that art director is pretty tough. What is her name again?"



"Quinn and, yeah, she is pretty good at demolishing people. She is a professional though."



"Mmm so cheeseburger?"



Blaine chuckles. Sam is truly incorrigible.



"When have I ever eaten cheeseburgers?"



"Oh, you know perfectly well when. Or do you need me to remind you that night we drunk until Santana kicked us out of her pub?"



"I don't know what you're talking about."



"So you don't remember how you begged me to take you to a Burger King because – I quote – Fuck being a model, I want to marry a cheeseburger."



Blaine throws his head back and laughs. It bubbles up free and untamed. Sam is one of the few people who manage to make him laugh like this.



"How do you even remember that?"



"I wrote it down."



"Of course you did."



"Then see you later at mine? We'll go from here."



"Sure. See you later."



"Work that guitar, bro."



Blaine put the phone back on the coffee table, a grin pulling at his lips. This is why Sam is his best friend.



When he had hopped off the Greyhound bus- clutching a suitcase half-filled with clothes and half with books and holding onto his guitar case as if it were a life line – Blaine didn't know anyone in New York except for Santana. He didn't even know her well. She was just the daughter of family friends. He remembered her from boring parties where she would sneak out and smoke cigarettes, her expensive shoes abandoned on the grass. She was a year older than him. During his senior year Blaine overheard Santana's mother bemoaning the fact that Santana had decided to move to New York to study design. Blaine's mother had hurried to console her saying that "surely she'll come to her senses, dear".



When Blaine had finally mustered enough courage to leave Westerville and his father's plans for college behind, Santana was the only one he could ask for help. He still remembers the way his heart pounded the night he checked his Facebook and saw that she had answered his inbox.



Of course I remember you, hobbit!

It was about time you grew a pair. And of course you can come over. Auntie Tana likes to help short marauders like you.



Just like that. She gave him her address and telephone number and was there when Blaine arrived at the bus station on a sunny September morning. From then on she had been Blaine's rock, a pretty bitchy and vicious one, but sure and safe like no other had ever been in Blaine's life.



He met Sam three months later, on a freezing night in November. Blaine was still trying to make a living out of gigs and random music lessons. And Sam had come up to him after a concert, all blond hair and huge grin, offering him compliments and a beer. At first Blaine had thought Sam was like an overgrown and overexcited puppy. He was cute and nerdy and Blaine inevitably developed a crush on him. It didn't last long, though, not when Sam decided he decided to adopt him as his brother. That meant way too much talking about girls and way too many Sean Connery impressions.



~*~



The pipes are finally quiet and Blaine focuses back on his music. Since the photo shoot at Bethesda Terrace, nearly a month ago, he can't deny that the thought of the art director from that day has visited him quite often while he writes. They just exchanged a few words, but that night Blaine came back home with Kurt's small smiles carved against his eyelids. Over the past month Blaine has had the time to think about it. It was the way Kurt held himself – a mixture of confidence and tenderness hidden in those shy smiles. He was truly different from any other art director Blaine had ever worked with. When he finally realized that small fragments of what he had seen that day in Central Park – the curve of Kurt's shoulders, the paleness of his skin, the gentle firmness of his voice – had managed to slip into his songs it was a bit disconcerting.



From the fumbling kisses and touches in the Dalton's dorms to the brief relationships scattered through the years he has spent in New York, no one has managed to just touch him. Reach down deep enough to make Blaine say he was in love. Sometimes he thinks it is his fault too. Keeping people at a distance has been easier from the first year spent trying to keep afloat in the big city to starting his modeling career. Blaine has never felt part of that world, with its codes and mirrors and blinding lights.



That's one of the shocking aspects about the attraction he felt towards Kurt. He fit perfectly in that parallel dimension that Vogue was. Yet Blaine couldn't help thinking there was something more under the surface of Kurt's beauty. It shone through Kurt's attention to every detail, through his friendliness with the photographer, through the kindness he reserved to Blaine himself.



Blaine's fingers move slowly over the chords, note following note and words piling up in his mind.



The pale curve of your wrist

The gentle slope of your nose

All like sparkles exploding through me.



~*~



"Excited much?"



Blaine blinks and swallows a bite of pasta salad.



"About?"



Sam grins like a wolf.



"C'mon you know what I'm talking about. That guy from the last Vogue thing."



Keeping his gaze focused on his plate, Blaine sighs. Not only did he make the mistake of mentioning Kurt that one time, he also told Sam that Kurt was going to direct today's shooting.



"Oh, and don't even try to say it isn't true. I am not stupid, you never came back from whatever you're doing at work and couldn't shut up about a guy before."



Blaine can't help smiling at that. Sam has always been incredibly perceptive when it comes to him. He manages to read him like an open book, almost better than Santana.



"What if it is true?"



Sam takes a loud sip of coke and tilts his head to the side.



"Then you go there and show him what you've got."



He waggles his eyebrows and Blaine almost chokes on his next bite.



"Sam!"



"What? That's how the world works."



Then he leans forward, a hand on Blaine's arm.



"Jokes aside, B. I saw the look in your eyes. It might be nothing, but who knows maybe this Kurt is a nice dude and he could be a good friend anyway?"



Blaine can almost feel his heart physically dilating. He nods and laughs when Sam punches his shoulder and mumbles a "that's more like it!"



~*~



Nerves take over again as Blaine waits for the elevator to reach the right floor. Rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, he tells himself that there's nothing to be nervous about. This has been his job for three years now and the fact that Kurt is going to be there doesn't change anything. They don't know each other. For all Blaine knows he could be a dick like some of his fellow models.



He doesn't know much about today's shooting. All his agent told him is that the theme is the new year and that gold is somehow involved. As soon as he enters the studio they usher him into a dressing room and thrust a pair of golden shorts in his hands. Blaine blinks but doesn't object. Over the past years people have dressed and coiffed him and put make up on him. He let them. It's all on the exterior after all, they don't really touch him, nor change who he is.



Once he has dressed – or more like undressed – Blaine pads his way over to make-up. The air in the studio is almost unbearably warm. A knot forms tight and hard in his throat as Hanna hushes him into the make-up room and Blaine spots Sebastian. He is sitting in one of the chairs, painted red from head to toe. One of the hairdressers is fixing his hair. It isn't the first time they work together, but that doesn't change the fact that Blaine doesn't like Sebastian. His arrogance, the way he smirks – Blaine can't help thinking that he is Kurt's opposite. His heart beats a bit faster at the thought that he is going to see Kurt soon. Blaine swallows it all down, though, as Jenny starts to brush golden paint down his torso.



"Hey there, baby."



A shiver runs down Blaine's spine.



"Don't call me that, please."



"Aww you sure are a spoilsport."



Blaine does his best to ignore Sebastian and stares at his own reflection in the mirror instead. Half of his body is already glistening gold. Blaine shifts his weight from left to right. He has never thought he was good looking. He might be average, but he is not Cooper, nor Sebastian. People have complimented him over the years, but Blaine has never been able to understand what they saw in him. When he looks at himself in the mirror he sees unruly hair, short legs and too big eyes. It's not as though Blaine is upset by it. His body is just that, a body. When he was a kid he had never imagined he would end up modeling for a living. But life likes to play and surprise you. Modeling means raising enough money to build a life made of music one day. And that dream is too big and shiny and perfect not to fight for it. Getting photographed for fashion magazines is Blaine's personal way of fighting. The fact that he has never felt either self-conscious or fond of his body has definitely helped.



"Here you go."



Blaine blinks back to reality and takes in his appearance. He looks like a small golden statue. Jenny has even painted his eyelids. The mirror reflects a flash of red.



"You sure look hot today."



"Sebastian..."



"I know, I know. You've made it clear you're not interested."



Blaine looks at the red and gold of their skin.



"Then why do you keep insisting?"



Sebastian grins, he truly looks like a good looking demon.



"Because it is fun."



Sighing Blaine steps away and makes his way to the door, headed to the shooting area.

The room is big, walls painted white and wooden floor. Blaine doesn't see any of it. He has eyes only for Kurt. It has been a month since they last saw each other. He seems to radiate even more beauty now, dressed in a pair of tight-fitting trousers, a dark blue vest and a crisp white shirt. Blaine opens and closes his hands and hovers in the doorway waiting for Kurt or Jonas to notice him. It's Jonas who does, a grin stretching his lips.



"Hey, Blaine! Come over. We're ready."



Then it's Kurt who turns and Blaine can feel himself smiling at the sight of those eyes. He has thought about them many times over the past month. Their color has effortlessly slid into his songs. Kurt simply nods, a small smile playing on his lips.

It isn't the warmth of the room that makes his skin prickle- Blaine is sure of that. He feels oddly exposed under Kurt's azure gaze. Jonas quickly goes back to fidgeting with his camera and Blaine is alone with Kurt. He is so close Blaine can hear the soft sounds of him breathing.



"It's nice to see you again."



Blaine can feel his cheeks getting hotter under the golden paint.



"For me too. I liked working with you."



Kurt ducks his head, an unruly strand of hair falling in front of his face.



"I thought I'd see you around, but you disappeared."



There's a kind of softness to Kurt's voice. It makes Blaine want to reach out for him.



"I usually try to spend as much time as I can away from cameras and such."



Kurt tilts his head to the side, teeth barely scraping his lower lip.



"You don't like this world, do you?"



Blaine notices the shift in his tone, the different shade of his gaze.



"Oh no, don't get me wrong. It's just that I try to dedicate as much time as I can to music."



There's a new kind of glint in Kurt's eyes now. Blaine feels oddly proud at the thought that he managed to do that.



"About that, I might have looked you up on Youtube."



A faint blush dusts Kurt's cheeks and Blaine is sure his heart has just leapt in his chest, like literally. It seems surreal. Blaine knows there are videos of random gigs going around on the web, but he had never imagined Kurt would want to watch them.



"You...really did that?"



"It is creepy, isn't it?"



Blaine shakes his head so hard it almost spins.



"It...not at all. I'm just...I wasn't expecting it."



"You are really good."



This time Blaine doesn't even try to reply. His face feels unbelievably hot under the paint.



"Hey, guys! Are you done talking already?"



Before Kurt can start walking away Blaine reaches out. The tips of his golden fingers brush against the back of Kurt's hand.



"Thank you."



Kurt blinks, a shy smile pulling at his lips.



"Time to work, I am afraid."



Blaine feels like a kid again, when he wanted time to stop so that Monday could never arrive and bring him back to school.



Jonas directs him into position and Blaine tries not to shiver too visibly when Kurt drapes a golden veil on his shoulder. Kurt's fingers are sure and gentle as they fasten the silky material. Blaine holds his breath until his lungs burn. It all leaves in a rush when Kurt lifts his gaze.



"You look like a Greek god."



It is a whisper, warm air tickling Blaine's brow. It nearly stops his heart. Kurt blushes furiously underneath the lights Jonas has set up for the shoot.



"I...that was...sorry."



He is adorable and Blaine wants nothing more than to pull him close. He keeps himself in check, though.



"Don't be."



Blaine knows his voice has come out a bit lower than intended. He can read the surprise in the curve of Kurt's slightly parted lips.



"Oh, look who's getting all cozy with the art director!"



Blaine cringes. Sebastian's voice cuts through the warm air of the room like a knife. He is about to reply when Kurt's fingers come up to his wrist. Every single spot of contact sends sparks running up Blaine's arm.



"I'd say you keep quiet, Sebastian. We are working and no one wants to hear your voice more than necessary."



Kurt's voice is firm and hard, like obsidian. Blaine looks at his elegant profile and feels too tight in his own skin. Without saying another word Kurt takes a step back and goes back to stand by Jonas' side. Blaine can feel Sebastian's eyes on him, but he doesn't turn. Instead, he focuses on the weight of Kurt's gaze on him. Blaine might not agree with those who call him "beautiful" or "hot", but Blaine knows many men have watched him. With Kurt it is different, though. It isn't intrusive nor dirty, the way it is with Sebastian. It is steady and somehow gentle, like a caress. As he twists his body following Jonas' directions, Blaine feels completely bared and cracked open. He doesn't mind as long as Kurt keeps looking at him just like that.



Today every model gets an individual shooting – Sebastian, Jeremiah and Mike. Red, forest green and blue. Blaine wonders if it is Kurt who had the idea for this theme. He has no doubt it'll look amazing. All painted up like this they seem painted on the canvas of the world. Suddenly his fingertips tingle with the need to compose. It never happens to him while he is working. Modeling and music have always been two separate sides of his life so far. It seems that Kurt is already challenging that. Blaine shakes his head. This is getting surreal and sitting on the floor in nothing but a pair of golden shorts makes it even more absurd. The glances that Kurt steals in his direction and the way Blaine answers to them – heart skipping and body tensing – are definitely real.



+++



He is trying, he really is, but his attention keeps sliding back towards Blaine no matter what. Even when Kurt focuses his gaze on Mike, ready to suggest a slight change of lighting and position, a part of him is constantly and acutely aware of Blaine's presence. Beautiful and quiet and golden like a star.



Kurt's job is to imagine and plan the setting and the theme of the shootings. He usually doesn't get to choose his models. This particular shooting, though, is important, being the first one of the year. When Isabelle told him he was going to be responsible for it he almost squealed in the middle of the office. After a week Kurt had all the shooting planned in his mind, from the colors to the poses. He only had one condition – he wanted Blaine to be part of it. He knew it was an extravagant request but all those evenings and nights he had spent drawing Blaine had always been at the center of his ensemble. With his beauty and his gentle eyes. Isabelle simply smirked before telling him that he had free rein.



The second half of the shooting is more complicated. Jonas and he spend a fair amount of time helping the models to find the right positions. Something heavy settles in Kurt's stomach at the sight of Sebastian standing so close to Blaine. The guy has quite a reputation and even though Kurt is not one to listen to gossip and acidic whispers he has worked enough with Sebastian to know gossip has at least a seed of truth in it. Kurt pushes it all down, though, trying to ignore both Jonas' knowing glances and the way his heart seems to get squeezed every time his and Blaine's gazes lock.



Outside the sun is already setting when they wrap. Kurt can feel his nerves cracking – a half smile or the flick of a wrist from Blaine enough to make his breath come shorter. Things aren't supposed to work like this. This is real life, not a book or a movie. And in real life Kurt Hummel doesn't feel like this – too light to keep himself anchored to Earth. He was still in high school when he learned that crushing on someone wasn't always wise, that hearts were easy to get shattered. Maybe that's why once in New York he has walked around on his toes, careful not to sink too deep, not to want too much. Then came Blaine. And with him came this energy that passes between them, that makes every hair on Kurt's body raise.



He watches Blaine as he talks with Mike. Kurt notices Blaine gestures a lot while he speaks. He also carries himself with a kind of quiet grace. His skin glistens gold with every movement.



"Be careful not to drool."



Kurt spins around to face a smirking Jonas.



"I am not drooling!"



"Right, sure."



Kurt glares at him in what he hopes is a threatening way, but if the cocky grin Jonas is sporting is anything to go by it definitely isn't working.



"You'll thank me later."



"For what?"



Jonas doesn't answer, he turns and strolls over to where the models are hovering, still painted up and waiting for a sign that their working day is finally over.



"Good work today, guys! Who wants to join me and my friend Kurt for a drink to celebrate?"



Kurt is glued to the spot. He is going to kill Jonas, slowly and painfully, that's for sure. He sets the thought aside quickly when Blaine's gaze flicks up to him. Kurt isn't sure about many things, especially about Blaine, but if there's one thing he knows it�ss that he wants to spend more time with him. He wants to be close enough to feel Blaine's body warmth on his skin. He wants to hear his voice, so rich and smooth, like hot chocolate. Before now Kurt has never been the one to send signals, to step away from his comfort zone. It had been Adam to come up to him, all shy smiles and British accent, asking him out for a coffee. The same had happened with the few other men Kurt has gone on dates with. A smile, a glance, a text - it didn't matter how, he was never the one to take the first step.



Now Kurt looks at Blaine and he doesn't feel like speaking up, but he nods, small and shy. He doesn't miss the way Blaine's eyes widen and the left corner of his beautiful mouth quirks up.



"I am in."



Kurt rocks himself on the balls of his feet, biting down on his bottom lip to stop the smile that is threatening to blossom.



~*~



In the end it's Jonas who chooses the bar and Kurt is really grateful for that. If Sebastian had been left free to choose, they would have ended up in some hole on the outskirt of town, some replica of Scandals, Lima's gay bar. As Blaine and the other guys shower and get back in their own clothes, Kurt busies himself with helping Jonas.



"There's no need to be so nervous, you know that, right?"



Kurt keeps his gaze focused on the reflective umbrella he has been folding. He knows Jonas is right. That doesn't change the partly nervous and partly excited fluttering of his stomach. It makes him feel alive in a way he hasn't felt in a long time.



"I know."



Jonas' hand is on his shoulder, sure and grounding.



"Just enjoy the night out."

Kurt nods, more to himself than to Jonas.



~*~



The ride on the underground is pretty uneventful, save for Jonas and Sebastian's bantering and Blaine's thigh pressed against his own. It is a simple touch, yet it is oddly overwhelming. The sounds of the train rushing along the tunnels mix up with Blaine's voice as he talks about the shooting. Kurt feels warm all over at the thought that Blaine appreciates his work.



"How do you come up with your ideas? Like do you see something and work from there or..."



Odd as it may be no one has ever asked him questions like this. Blaine looks at him as though he truly cares.



"I...sometimes I see something that inspires me. It could be anything really. Others it just...blossoms, I guess? Like in my mind."



Blaine nods, eyes gentle and attentive.



"It is pretty similar to what happens to me when I write music then."



Feeling understood isn't a luxury Kurt has experienced many times during his life so far. It makes him blink faster and hold onto the train's pole a bit tighter.



"I used to sing, you know? I never wrote music, though."



Blaine shifts closer, his shoulder pressing firmly against Kurt's.



"Oh, why did you stop singing then?"



Kurt looks right ahead of him at the black tunnels rolling away outside the windows.



"It just...it didn't feel like the right path for me. Glee club was my life when I was in high school and I truly loved singing, I still do, but...I came here to try and get into NYADA and instead I stumbled upon an internship at Vogue."



He stops speaking, catching his breath. It is unusual for him to talk about all this, especially to people he works with and barely knows. Even Jonas doesn't know about his past plans.



"Well, sometimes life surprises you, right?"



Kurt looks at Blaine. He is smiling, eyes shining quietly. Kurt's heart stutters in a way he is sure is pretty unnatural.



"It does."



~*~



The place Jonas chooses is small and being a Wednesday night it isn't too packed. Kurt keeps himself close to Jonas as Sebastian slings an arm around Blaine's shoulders. He doesn't like the way Sebastian acts towards Blaine - all possessiveness and arrogance. He doesn't like the way he feels when looking at them. Kurt has never been the jealous type, probably because the relationships he has had so far didn't count enough to give him any occasion to be. Somehow they all ended up to be places he didn't want to stay, cages that kept him in too tight.



Now, though, Kurt looks at Sebastian hand at Blaine's nape and his fists clench.



"You need to relax, Kurt."



Kurt looks at Jonas. His expression is serious and Kurt knows he'd better listen to him this time.



"I need a drink."



The caipirinha leaves a thick, sweet taste on his tongue. Kurt doesn't mind, not really. The music is a bit louder now, the lights a bit brighter. It feels good.



Kurt has never been one to drink too much. There had been a couple of mishaps back in high school - like the "Rachel Berry house party train-wreck extravaganza" - and nothing much since he started his new life in New York. There have been nights when Santana brought wine and demanded they all got drunk with her and those ended up with them piled up on one of the beds, snuggled together, after having spent the night giggling like twelve year old girls. Kurt has never felt comfortable with drinking around people he works with or he doesn't know well enough. Alcohol tends to make him loose-limbed and his brain-to-mouth filter is usually badly affected.



Tonight, though, Blaine is so close. He is sipping his beer, curls coming loose and smile bright. Kurt keeps a bit of a distance, he stays by Jonas' side chatting and drinking. Jonas buys him a second round and a third. A small voice in Kurt's mind tries to remind him that it is Wednesday and that he has to be at the office early tomorrow. He doesn't want to listen. After his third glass is finally empty, Jonas is shoving him in Blaine's direction.



"Hey! What are you doing?"



"Helping you, Kurt!"



"But I..."



Jonas shakes his head, a "no buts" expression on his face.



Kurt swallows dryly. The world is a bit fuzzy around the edges. He almost stumbles into Blaine as he turns to put his own empty glass down on the counter.



"Hey."



Blaine is leaning forward to make himself heard over the music. His breath brushes against the shell of Kurt's ear. Kurt licks his lips, heart beating slightly faster.



"Hi."



"I was kind of wondering when you would join us."



Blaine's words are a bit slurred, his tone of voice lower than usual. It makes heat pool at the base of Kurt's spine. Kurt flicks his gaze in Sebastian's direction. He is dancing with a random guy, all long legs and swivelling hips.



"I didn't want to intrude."



Blaine turns around, his hand coming up to press against Kurt's chest for balance and Kurt is pretty sure his lungs just stopped working. When Blaine turns back around his eyes are wide, his expression slightly frantic.



"Oh no, no. It's not...Sebastian is just a jerk. There's nothing..."



His fingers flex where they rest over Kurt's vest. Blaine bites his lower lip and waits. Kurt is having a hard time trying to process it all.



"I...um...I'm sorry I came to the wrong...conclusions."



Blaine shakes his head and crowds even closer.



"Nuh, don't be sorry. There's no need."



He grins and Kurt could swear he is even more beautiful than usual.



"Can I buy...uhm...buy you a drink?"



Blaine's palm is still spread wide and warm on his chest and Kurt wouldn't dream to refuse.



One drink morphs in other two more. They find an empty bench in a corner and sit down, pressed close together. Kurt can feel the vibrations of Blaine's laugh through his every bone.



"You laugh a lot."



Blaine's eyes crinkle at the corners.



"You make me happy."



He shrugs as though it is perfectly normal to say it and in the state Kurt is in - why is the room spinning now? - it feels a bit natural too. To press back against Blaine's solid shoulder, to smile openly. Now and then Jonas wanders by to check on them. Once he gives them an honest-to-god wink and Kurt can actually feel himself blush up to the tip of his ears. Blaine looks straight at him, tilting his head to the side.



"You're pretty when you blush."



Kurt presses his sweaty palms against his thighs. Definitely a sign that he has drunk too much. He would never risk to wrinkle a pair of trousers like this otherwise.



"T-thank you."



For a while they just sit there in silence, the bass thrumming deep inside of Kurt. He doesn't feel much like dancing. With Blaine breathing and smiling so close he feels like singing. Blaine's hand on his forearm shakes him out of his thoughts.



"Want to go out for a bit?"



Kurt nods, the perspective of being alone making his heart beat excitedly. He looks around for Jonas to let him know he is going out. He spots him by the counter, talking with Mike. When their gazes meet, Jonas simply grins and gives him a thumbs up.



Outside it's freezing, a cold wind tugs at his hair and Kurt shivers. Blaine takes his hand, squeezing. Kurt is about to babble out something when he starts singing.



You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life

See that girl, watch that scene, diggin' the dancing queen



Blaine keeps hold of Kurt's hand, swinging it back and forth between them as he sings. Kurt can't help thinking he was born to do this. Blaine is a wonderful model, but when he sings...when he sings he looks and feels otherworldly. His voice seems to slide right underneath Kurt's sink.



You come in to look for a king

Anybody could be that guy



Kurt remembers his senior year's school ball. He remembers Mercedes and Rachel singing this song. But what he remembers the most was how badly he wished he could have someone to dance with. Now Kurt looks at Blaine, smiling and hopping on the sidewalk. He can feel himself smiling. Maybe it is stupid, but right now if feels as though an old dream is finally coming through. Taking a deep breath he joins in when Blaine reaches the chorus.



You are the dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen

Dancing queen, feel the beat from the tambourine

You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life

See that girl, watch that scene, diggin' the dancing queen



Blaine laughs, happy and warm through the cold air.



"Oh my God, Kurt! Your voice!"



"What about it?"



Blaine tugs at his hand, pulling him closer. Kurt finds himself looking down at Blaine, the tips of their shoes touching.



"It is amazing. Like so...just stunning."



Blaine's features are alight with enthusiasm. Something unknown unfurls behind Kurt's breastbone and all of sudden he wants nothing more than to kiss Blaine. The sheer force of it is unexpected and Kurt wishes he could take a step back, but Blaine is holding him close.



"We should totally sing it together."



Kurt tries to picture the two of them singing together, the stage light falling on them, their eyes on each other. It is a mistake, because now the desire to just get lost in the space between Blaine's slightly parted lips is even stronger.



"S-sure."



Blaine grins, impossibly wild. Then he stands on his toes and presses a kiss to Kurt's cheek. His lips are slightly chapped because of the cold, but incredibly soft. It is simple and chaste. It burns right to Kurt's core. For an instant the only thing in focus are Blaine's eyes, the slope of his nose and those lips of his. Then the door of the bar opens, music pouring out along with Jonas and a stumbling Mike.



"Time to call it a night, guys."



Kurt blinks and takes a step back. Blaine smiles up at him shyly before letting go of his hand.



"That's...a good idea."



Mike's voice pipes up.

"Oh and we don't have to wait for Seb. Looks like he found company for the night."



Kurt gulps down the "of course he did" that was threatening to slide past his lips. As they walk towards the nearest underground stop, Kurt stays as close to Blaine as possible. They don't speak, but their shoulders touch and the back of their hands brush now and then. Every time it happens Blaine ducks his head, a small smile on his lips. It is adorable and a new kind of contentment settles over Kurt underneath the fuzziness brought by the alcohol.



Once inside the station Kurt sways a bit on the spot. The whole place seems to be slightly off kilter and he doesn't want to go back home just yet. The sound of the trains passing in the tunnels around them seems to pierce right through him. Jonas and Mike wave them goodbye before heading to catch their train. Jonas manages to mouth a "Go, Kurt!" before stumbling and clutching Mike's shoulder for balance.



Kurt clears his throat.



"So...uhm...which one is your direction?"



The sentence structure doesn't make much sense, but Kurt doesn't care. The walls are spinning a bit too fast and Blaine is too beautiful to care.



"Brooklyn, Vinegar Hill."



"Oh, we don't live too far from each other. I live in Bushwick."



Blaine all but bounces on the spot. Kurt can't help thinking he seems an excited puppy.



"That's awesome!"



They walk to the platform. Kurt looks at the way Blaine's curls twist and bounce in the wind when the train arrives. They sit side by side, hands brushing in the small space left between their thighs. This is unexplored territory for Kurt. He doesn't get close to people easily. He doesn't let people come close either. And yet here he is, exchanging shy smiles with Blaine as the train runs along the tunnels.



Blaine starts humming under his breath. Kurt knows the song and he closes his eyes. It feels natural to join in.



It's more than a feeling, when I hear that old song they used to play

Kurt doesn't mind about the other passengers, not when Blaine smiles at him like that. A silly part of him wishes he could take a picture.



"I've to get off at the next one."



For an instant Kurt's tipsy brain suggests him to stop Blaine, to ask him not to go. Kurt shakes his head minutely before standing up. They wait for Blaine's stop standing close to each other, hands brushing where they are gripping the pole.



"It was..."



"I..."



Blaine chuckles.



"You go first."



There are so many things Kurt would like to say - you're like no one I've ever met, can we see each other again, I still want to kiss you.



"I had a really nice time. Thank you."



"Thanks to you."



The train stops and the doors slide open. It only takes an instant. Kurt leans forward and presses a quick kiss to Blaine's cheek. Blaine steps out of the train but remains on the platform until the doors slide closed again. He mouths a "good night" and waves. Kurt waves back, heart fluttering.



As he makes his way back to his building on wobbly legs, Kurt can't help singing to himself.



More than a feeling