The song catches Blaine unawares, the melody filling the car as he starts the engine. "Baby, it's cold outside," Dean Martin croons, and Blaine sucks in a startled breath, his mind transported back a number of years to an elegant library and a quiet, blue-eyed boy. Blaine gets a fond smile on his face as he recalls singing the song with Kurt in an attempt to woo him.

Things unfortunately hadn't worked out; Kurt hadn't seemed to realize Blaine was trying to woo him with the song, and Blaine hadn't worked up the courage to ask Kurt out. They'd graduated high school without going out on a single date, and all the while, Blaine had lived in fantasy, wistfully imagining what it would be like to hold Kurt's hand, to kiss him sweetly.

“It isn’t that I’m uninterested in him, guys, the timing’s just not right,” he repeatedly said to Wes and David until it was too late and they’d all graduated from Dalton. Now, Kurt’s in New York City, getting ready for opening night of his biggest role in a Broadway show to date, and Blaine is on the other side of the continent, working his way through bit parts on sitcoms and crime dramas in pursuit of an acting career.

Blaine’s followed Kurt’s Broadway career ever since he first took the stage as Toby in an off-Broadway revival of Sweeney Todd. He has scores and scores of pages bookmarked in his web browser, all articles lauding Kurt’s performances, and there’s a shelf in his bookcase devoted solely to scrapbooks collecting every magazine article and review of Kurt’s performances. He’s so proud of his former classmate, and he makes sure to tell Kurt that at least once a day. Even though they’re living on opposite sides of the world, so to speak, they keep in touch via text messages and phone calls, emails and Facebook posts.

So, when a front row ticket and a backstage pass to Opening Night of Wicked show up at his apartment, Blaine is thrilled and stunned to see Kurt is starring as Fiyero. He’s excited and immediately calls Kurt to congratulate him. They send the better part of an hour gushing over the show and the songs and the costumes, and Blaine is reluctant to say goodbye but he knows that it’s late in New York, and Kurt needs to be up early for rehearsal. He says goodbye with a promise to take Kurt out to dinner as soon as he gets to New York to celebrate his good fortune, and when he ends the call, his face is starting to ache slightly from smiling so much.

He jumps online and books a flight to New York, set to arrive the day before Kurt’s opening night and leave two days later. Luckily, his schedule is clear, so he doesn’t have to cancel any acting gigs. He calls David, and then Wes, to get advice on what to do and whether he should make a move. David suggests serenading Kurt, but Blaine is a little bit hesitant. Even three years later, he’s still feeling the sting of Jeremiah’s rejection after his rendition of When I Get You Alone at the Gap. Wes is a little more helpful, suggesting that Blaine take things slow and ease into the admission of feelings.

“Take him out to dinner, woo him subtly,” Wes says. “Bring a gift to Opening Night, something you know he’ll like. Be the perfect gentleman; open doors for him, pull his chair out, hold his hand, and for god’s sake, man, don’t go belting out sappy love songs in the middle of a crowded room. This isn’t Dalton, people will look at you funny and it’ll just be embarrassing for Kurt and you. Just- Don’t do it.”

With that in mind, Blaine goes on a little shopping trip in Beverly Hills, scouring the shops for the perfect gift to bring to Kurt. Nothing seems right, nothing screams “KURT!” and then he steps into the Gucci store. The first item he sees is a purple silk shawl trimmed in black with tassels, and he instantly knows that it’s perfect. He buys it without even glancing at the price tag; Kurt is worth the hefty sum. The shawl is carefully folded and stowed in his carry-on bag, and his skin is tingling with excitement as he boards the plane.

When he lands at New York’s JFK airport, he sends Kurt a text to let him know he’s arrived; he’d called Kurt before his flight had left Los Angeles to make sure that he’d be there to pick him up, and Kurt had given him an enthusiastic “Yes, of course!” Blaine’s floating on air as he disembarks from the plane, his carry-on bag slung over his shoulder, and he’s whistling ‘Teenage Dream’ as he heads toward the baggage claim area.

He’s just retrieving his suitcase from the carousel when he hears a shouted “Blaine!” from behind him. He smiles brightly and turns to greet Kurt with his arms wide open, and then freezes, somehow managing to keep the wide, bright smile plastered across his face, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes anymore.

Kurt’s not alone.

The shock of seeing a handsome, tall, blond-haired young man trailing behind Kurt hits Blaine with all the force of a wrecking ball, and he feels a little bit like an idiot, standing there with his arms outstretched. He imagines that he looks like a dopey clown sans makeup, but he keeps on smiling and manages to find his voice. “Kurt!” he says enthusiastically as the other young man finally reaches him and embraces him. His arms automatically lock around Kurt’s shoulders, and he shoots an appraising glance at the stranger.

“Hey,” the guy says, bobbing his head nonchalantly, and Blaine has the irrational urge to plant his fist squarely in the middle of the guy’s half-smirk.

He’s never been a violent kind of guy, so he just shakes that urge off, focusing on Kurt instead. “You brought company,” he says, trying to sound as casual as possible.

Kurt draws back from the hug, his face lit up like he’s a fucking Christmas tree, and Blaine can’t help the way that million watt smile tugs at his heart. He feels himself smiling more broadly in return, and then that smile dies as Kurt reaches for the new guy’s hand. Their fingers lace together and Kurt squeezes slightly, and Blaine swears that he feels pressure on his heart.

“Blaine, this is Nick,” Kurt gushes, his eyes bright and shiny, and Blaine swears he’s seen that smitten look before somewhere. “He’s one of the chorus members for Wicked. Nick, this is Blaine, the old classmate from Dalton I was telling you about.”

Blaine manages to keep his smile on his face even as Nick sticks his hand out. “Nice to meet you, Blaine,” Nick says. “Kurt’s told me a lot about you.”

“Oh wow, really? That’s so great,” Blaine says with a casual laugh as he grasps Nick’s hand and gives it a firm shake. “Kurt hasn’t mentioned you once.”

Kurt looks a little guilty at that, catching his lower lip between his teeth and avoiding Blaine’s gaze. “We just started dating a week ago,” he says sheepishly. “I didn’t want to say anything and jinx it.”

Nick clears his throat and gives Blaine an easy-going smile. “Can I take your bag for you?” he asks politely, trying to diffuse the awkwardness.

“Nope, that’s okay,” Blaine says with a quick shake of his head. “I’ve got it.”

Kurt gives Nick a grateful smile and then hooks his arm around Blaine’s as he starts dragging his friend toward the exit. “Nick drove me here. New York traffic is insane, and there’s no way he trusted me to drive in the snow,” he says with a cheerful laugh. “Now, I thought we’d take you to your hotel, let you drop off your bags, freshen up a little, and then it’s open mic night at Danny’s, which is this great little piano bar in the Theater district. You’re just going to love it, Blaine.”

Blaine smiles and lets Kurt drag him out of the airport, only half-listening to his friend’s cheerful babbling about the acts he’s seen at the piano bar. Blaine’s eyes are on Nick, sizing him up and trying to determine if the guy is really serious about Kurt. Nick seems to be doing the exact same thing because their eyes meet and they abruptly look away from each other, awkward tension slicing through the air.

Kurt seems happily oblivious though, and Blaine breathes a soft sigh of relief. Nick is apparently an SUV kind of guy, since he directs Blaine to a Land Rover, and Blaine can’t help the soft scoff that escapes him. Kurt gives him a funny look, and he smiles, shrugging casually. “Just wasn’t expecting a theater kid to drive a Land Rover, that’s all.”

“It holds up better in New York traffic,” Nick says with a shrug of his shoulders as he takes Blaine’s bag and loads it into the back.

One white-knuckled ride and a near-miss collision later, Blaine is stumbling out of the Land Rover and seriously contemplating the idea of kissing the ground beneath his feet. He dismisses that when he glances down and sees the dirty, trodden snow on the sidewalk. Opting to just grab his suitcase and bag from the back, he gives Kurt and Nick a smile and a thumbs up and heads into the hotel. He doesn’t know why he thought they’d stay outside, and by the time the front desk clerk is pulling up his reservation, he’s feeling like a real heel for not asking them to come inside out of the cold. He asks the clerk to wait just one moment and then turns away, only to nearly jump out of his skin as Kurt appears standing behind him.

Kurt looks amused, eyebrows lifting. “Kinda jumpy there, Anderson,” he teases, smiling brightly.

“I was just coming out to get you,” Blaine says, licking his lips. He frowns a bit when he sees no sign of Nick. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

“Finding a parking space,” Kurt says with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulder as he hooks his arm around Blaine’s again. Blaine tries not to read too much into the way that Kurt presses against him; Kurt’s just a little cold from being outside and Blaine has started to warm up thanks to the heated hotel lobby. “We’re close enough to Danny’s that I thought we could walk it.”

“In this weather?” Blaine asks with a chuckle as he nods at the clerk, who’s already resumed working on processing Blaine’s reservation.

“Here you are, sir, Room 4714, on the fourth floor,” the clerk says as he hands Blaine a printout to sign. “Ice and vending machines are on the lower level and we do offer room service and a wake up call.” He swipes a key card through a reader and then tucks it into a paper sleeve before handing it to Blaine. “Have a good evening and enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you,” Blaine says as he signs the sheet and hands it back. He smiles as he accepts the key and then he nudges Kurt toward the elevator.

“This is nice,” Kurt says once they’re in the elevator and he’s pressed the button for the fourth floor. “I’m soooo glad you could make it, Blaine. You are going to love New York.”

Blaine chuckles and smiles, nodding slightly. “I’ve been to New York before, you know,” he says. “Nationals are held here every year.“

Kurt sticks his tongue out at Blaine and then laughs, grinning. “Ah, but have you ever gotten a tour of New York from the perspective of a local?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Blaine can’t help but laugh as the elevator doors slide open and he motions for Kurt to exit first. “All right, maybe not,” he concedes as he follows Kurt down the short, narrow hallway. The hotel is a skyscraper, built straight up instead of out, and the cramped hall curves around itself. The doors of two rooms are side by side to the left of the elevator, and to the right, two more doors sit just four steps away. Blaine’s room is the one on the left, and he hands the key to Kurt, who swipes it and pushes the door open once the lock turns green.

“Quaint,” Kurt says as he breezes into the room. It’s somewhat on the small side, compared to other hotels Blaine has stayed in, but the way it’s laid out makes it feel more spacious. The queen sized bed takes up most of the space, and there’s just enough room in the bathroom to move comfortably without brushing the walls. Along the wall opposite the bed is an entertainment center that holds the flatscreen TV, an armoire and a heavy oak desk. Everything is sleek and modern and a dark mahogany. Blaine loves it.

He deposits his suitcase beside the bed and sets his bag down on the comforter. “I brought you a gift,” he says, having decided that now is just as good a time as any to give Kurt his present. He’d much rather do it now than later and have Nick side-eying him.

Kurt’s face lights up at the mention of a gift, and he giddily claps his hands together as Blaine unzips his bag. “Really?” he asks, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. “What is it?”

Blaine chuckles as he pulls from his bag the flat, rectangular, black box with the gold “GUCCI” logo stamped across the center of the lid. “Why don’t you open it and find out?” he says casually as he hands the box to Kurt, whose eyes had widened to the size of dinner plates.

“You got me Gucci?” he says, astonished. He repeats it again in a hushed, awed tone. “You got me Gucci.”

Blaine snickers softly through his nose and nods. “Yes, Kurt, I got you Gucci,” he says, his tone humoring. “Now, open it, would you? I’m sure your boyfriend is probably wondering where we are.”

Kurt wrinkles his brow, throwing a frown in Blaine’s direction, before he focuses on his present. He carefully sets the box down on the bed and reverently removes the lid, his breath catching as he sees the vibrant violet color of the fabric. “Oh, Blaine,” he whispers as he removes one of his gloves and brushes his fingers over the material. He looks like he might’ve just died and gone to heaven -- or possibly came, Blaine isn’t sure which -- and he lets out a soft groan. “Silk.”

Blaine looks pleased, smiling as Kurt pulls the shawl from the box and unfurls it, wraps it around his shoulders. “Oh, Blaine!” Kurt exclaims, his face lighting up, and Blaine feels intense satisfaction knowing that he caused that look on Kurt’s face. “It’s beautiful!”

He races into the bathroom and flips on the light switch, examines his reflection in the mirror and carefully arranges the shawl around his shoulders, the tassels falling perfectly to frame his sternum. Blaine moves over to the doorway, grinning as he examines Kurt. “It looks perfect on you,” he comments. “I knew it would.”

Kurt turns to face Blaine, giving him an adoring smile as he reaches out to take Blaine’s hand. “Thank you, Blaine,” he says, fingers squeezing, and Blaine feels that pressure on his heart again, but it’s a good feeling this time.

“You’re welcome, Kurt,” he says softly, staring longingly at his best friend. He knows that he shouldn’t, there are plenty of reasons why what he’s feeling in his heart is a bad idea -- Wes had warned him not to push too hard, Kurt had a boyfriend, they’d just seen each other face-to-face for the first time in years -- but it’s as if he’s moving on instinct, autopilot engaged. He steps forward, his free hand reaching up to cup Kurt’s cheek, and he sees the flash of a questioning look in Kurt’s eyes, his lips parting to form a question. Blaine doesn’t let it deter him though; he just goes for it, closing the gap between them and pressing his lips to Kurt’s in a tender kiss.

He intends to keep it light and pull away quickly, but something makes him linger. Perhaps it’s the way that Kurt’s fingers tighten around his hand or maybe it’s the soft sigh that spills from Kurt’s lips. It could even be the way that Kurt seems to suddenly meld into him; Blaine isn’t really sure when the kiss intensifies or who really initiates it, but the next thing he knows, their tongues are dancing and he’s pressing Kurt back, his hand flat against the wall and resting beside Kurt’s ear. Kurt’s arm is wrapped loosely around Blaine’s waist, and he doesn’t know how it happens, but his knee is slotted between Kurt’s thighs.

Kurt’s hips roll and he lets out a tiny whimper, and that seems to be the cold water that douses the raging inferno in Blaine’s belly. He abruptly draws back, gasping for breath, and he stares at Kurt’s confused expression, sees the splotchy redness of a flush creeping across Kurt’s alabaster skin.

“I’m sorry,” he pants, and Kurt blinks owlishly at him for a moment before anger knits his brow together. Blaine is stunned to find himself shoved back into the counter, Kurt’s hands gripping his shoulders like a vise.

“What do you mean, you’re sorry?” the other young man squeaks. “You don’t just kiss a man like that and then say you’re sorry, Blaine! That’s like giving a thirsty man a sip of water and then telling him it’s poisoned!”

Blaine blinks, feeling very, very confused, and he frowns. “But you- You have a boyfriend, Kurt,” he says quietly. “I shouldn’t have kissed you because of Nick. He’s probably downstairs, wait-”

Kurt gives a most indelicate snort and shakes his head. “God, you’re such a twit, Blaine,” he says. “Nick isn’t- We aren’t serious about each other. That’s why I never mentioned him to you. Nick’s just-” He shrugs casually, rolling his eyes a little, as if what he and Nick are to each other is the most obvious thing in the world.

Blaine’s still feeling confused, and he drags his tongue over his lips. “You’re just what, Kurt?” he asks quietly. “I kinda need to know before I go and make a complete fool out of myself, if I haven’t already.”

Kurt heaves a dramatic sigh and rolls his eyes again. “We’re, you know,” he says, giving Blaine a knowing look, and Blaine frowns because no, he really doesn’t know. Kurt can see that Blaine doesn’t get it, and he huffs, shaking his head as he exasperatedly exclaims, “Men.” He sighs, dropping his hands from Blaine’s shoulders and settling his fists on his hips. “We’re fuck buddies, okay? It’s just a casual fling between castmates.”

Blaine isn’t really sure that makes him feel any better; that means Kurt’s no longer a virgin while he is, and he isn’t sure he likes the idea that somebody took Kurt’s virginity before him. He’d had this romantic idea in his head that Kurt and he would reunite for the first time in three years, admit their feelings for one another, and make sweet, tender love to each other. It being the first time ever for both of them had been part of the romantic aspect of the fantasy. “Oh,” he says, feeling foolish.

Kurt’s expression softens and he smiles, reaching out to brush his fingers over Blaine’s cheek. “I waited for so long in high school for you to admit you loved me, Blaine,” he says quietly. “Wes and David both told me that you did, but you never said anything, and I kept hoping and waiting and wishing, and then-” He sighs and shakes his head. “Graduation came and you moved away to California, and I still waited. I couldn’t- I couldn’t wait any longer, Blaine, and then Nick came along and he was sweet and brought me flowers and candies and told me I look beautiful.” He laughs lightly, tossing his head back, and Blaine is struck once again by Kurt’s beauty. “And then you come here tonight, and you buy me Gucci and you kiss me. Nick’s never bought me Gucci or kissed me like that. I’ve waited so long for you to kiss me like that, Blaine.”

“I’m sorry,” Blaine says, the words rushing from him. “I’m sorry I’m an idiot, I’m sorry that I didn’t think the timing was right. I’m sorry that it’s taken me so long to realize, but it’s always been you, Kurt. Just you. I’ve always wanted just you, even in California, even when I was thousands of miles away and could’ve had any guy on the LA strip I wanted -- all I could think about was you.”

Kurt has that smitten look on his face again, and Blaine feels warmth wash over him as he realizes it’s directed at him now. “I guess it wasn’t meant to be until now,” he says quietly.

Blaine nods, smiling. “Timing is everything,” he says. He licks his lips. “What about Nick?”

Kurt smiles softly and takes a step back. “Let’s just go out to dinner. I’ll have a talk with him tomorrow.” He steps out of the bathroom and opens the room door, stepping out into the hall. He glances back over his shoulder, hand stretching out to Blaine. “Coming?”

Blaine looks at Kurt’s hand and then smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Yeah,” he says as he steps forward, his hand slipping into Kurt’s. Their fingers lace together, and Blaine follows Kurt out into the hall, the door clicking shut behind him.

~-~

“Blaine?” Kurt frowns and gives his friend a weird look, wondering why Blaine has this dazed, puppy love expression on his face. His eyes are glazed over a little, and it looks a little like he’s daydreaming. Kurt isn’t sure how to take that, and he finally reaches a hand out, snapping his fingers in front of Blaine’s eyes. “Hello! Earth to Blaine!”

Blaine jerks, instinctively jumping back as his eyes widen in surprise. He casts a confused glance around and frowns before looking back at Kurt. “What?” he asks.

“You looked like you were really far away just then,” Kurt muses, peering closely at Blaine’s face. “Are you having a stroke? Do you feel faint? Do I need to call an ambulance?” He’s already digging into his coat pocket, fingers curling around his cell phone, and he hesitates as Blaine grabs his shoulder.

“Wait, no, I’m fine,” Blaine insists, giving Kurt a charming smile. “I was just thinking how you’re going to knock them dead tomorrow on the stage.”

Kurt gives him a disbelieving look, one eyebrow arching. “I was trying to get your attention for a good ten minutes, Blaine,” he says. “Nick called, he’s waiting downstairs in the lobby. That was five minutes ago, so we should probably get down there before he sends the cavalry up here.”

“Right, of course,” Blaine says as he steps out of the bathroom. There isn’t a hint of disappointment on his face, though he certainly feels it inside. The kiss, his confession of his feelings for Kurt, Kurt admitting that Nick was just a fuck buddy, it was all an elaborate fantasy cooked up by his treacherous brain. In reality, he’d apparently just been staring longingly at Kurt. God, how embarrassing.

He walks over to the door and opens it, motioning Kurt out into the hallway, and he plasters a smile on his face. He’s disappointed in himself for not having the courage to admit how he feels to Kurt, but he isn’t going to let that stop him from having an enjoyable night out with his best friend.

~-~

As it turns out, Blaine’s evening is less enjoyable than he’d hoped. Kurt links arms with Nick once they’re downstairs, his other arm still wound around Blaine, and the three of them make their way toward the piano bar. Nick decides that he’s hungry, and since Danny’s doesn’t serve food, they end up at the Russian Tea Room. Nick apparently has a standing reservation, and Blaine has to wonder how a kid like him has a standing reservation at such a classy restaurant.

Blaine orders the blinchik, which turns out to be a crepé filled with wild mushrooms, goat cheese, onions and lingonberries. His main course is a Russian-style ravioli, and Kurt somehow talks him into splitting the chocolate pyramid -- a bittersweet chocolate mousse with a raspberry filling -- with Nick and him. Blaine is feeling pleasantly full and doesn’t think he could stand to eat another bite, but Kurt flashes those sad puppy dog eyes at him, and he gives faster than a church patron at a Sunday offering plate.

He’s seated across the table from Nick and Kurt, who are side by side, and he’s forced to endure their sickeningly sweet gestures of affection and love. Nick has repeatedly dipped his fork into his food and lovingly offered it to Kurt, all the while casting starstruck gazes at him. Kurt laughs at everything Nick says, regardless of whether it’s actually funny or not, and there’s genuine adulation in his eyes as he gazes at Nick. Every once in a while, they lean in toward each other, foreheads touching, and Blaine can see that they’re holding hands under the glass-topped table. Their pinky fingers are hooked around each other, and every so often, Nick will lean in to whisper something in Kurt’s ear, something that makes the other boy blush and whisper back.

It’s enough to make Blaine sick, and he finally lays his fork down in silent protest.

“Well, it’s getting late,” he says, feeling rather lame for cutting the evening short, but he really can’t stand to watch them acting all lovey-dovey toward each other, not when his heart yearns for Kurt.

Kurt blinks and tears his gaze away from Nick, fixing Blaine with a panicked stare. “What?” he asks, feeling very confused as Blaine stands up, wallet already drawn from his pocket. “What are you doing? Sit back down, we haven’t even gone to Danny’s yet.”

Blaine winces; he’d forgotten about the piano bar and Kurt’s desire to attend open mic night. He gives an apologetic smile and casually shrugs his shoulders. “Jet lag’s getting to me, I guess,” he says. “You know, time change and all that.”

Kurt’s eyes narrow, gaze cool and calculating and not the least bit buying Blaine’s bullshit. “It’s only nine o’clock here, which would be six o’clock there. You can’t tell me that you go to bed at six o’clock in Los Angeles, Blaine. I know you don’t, because you’ve sent me texts at three in the morning, my time. Jet lag shouldn’t be affecting you that badly.”

Blaine freezes, not sure how to respond to that, so he sighs and stuffs his wallet back in his pocket, sitting down. “Okay, okay, I just thought you might want to make it an early night since you have Opening Night tomorrow.”

Kurt scoffs a little and leans into Nick, who presses a soft kiss to his boyfriend’s temple. “Don’t worry about me, Blaine, I’m fine,” Kurt assures him. “I’ll let you know when I get tired. Right now, I want you to have fun.”

“I’m having fun, Kurt, I promise,” Blaine protests, smiling softly. “I’m just concerned about you being too tired tomorrow because you spent the night trying to entertain me.”

Kurt waves his hand dismissively and shakes his head. “Not a chance,” he said. “I’m way too excited and jittery to sleep anyway.”

“You’re gonna be great, babe,” Nick coos as he hugs Kurt close. Blaine makes a face, scrunching up his nose, as they kiss, and he feels a little revolted, actually. Nick’s tongue is everywhere, and there are these odd, loud slurping noises; Blaine actually casts a glance around to see if anybody else is offended by this gratuitous public display of affection, but none of the other patrons seem to be paying them any attention.

Blaine lets it continue for a few moments before he feels like his entire dinner is going to come hurdling out of his mouth at lightning-quick speeds. He clears his throat, plastering on a polite smile when both young men stop kissing and look at him. “So, that piano bar?” he says, and Kurt’s face lights up.

~-~

They end up squabbling over who’s going to pay the bill, Blaine insisting that he at least pay for his portion of the meal. Kurt isn’t having it though, and he finally manages to grapple the little plastic tray with the bill on it away from Blaine. He slaps down a credit card and then quickly passes it off to the waiter with a smile.

Blaine wrinkles his nose, scowling a bit. “You didn’t have to do that, Kurt. I could’ve paid for myself,” he says, but Kurt merely waves his hand in dismissal again.

“YOU came to visit ME, Blaine,” Kurt says matter-of-factly. “I’m allowed to buy your dinner.” He smiles, canoodling with Nick again, and Blaine glances around quickly, praying that the waiter is returning soon with Kurt’s card and receipt. He’s even willing to let go of the fact that he’d promised to take Kurt to dinner to celebrate, which included paying the bill.

HIs prayers are apparently quite effective because the waiter returns in under five minutes, thanking them for their patronage and inviting them back. Blaine gives a polite nod and smile as Kurt adds a tip and signs the receipt. “Okay, now we can go,” Kurt announces as he recaps the pen and sets it in the tray on top of the receipt. He slips his card back in his wallet and tucks his wallet into his pocket before standing and reaching for Nick’s hand. Blaine tries to control the jealous twinge in his stomach as he watches their fingers entwine. That should be him holding Kurt’s hand, and he has nobody but himself to blame.

They make their way to the piano bar, where they find a table in the corner. Kurt almost immediately takes the stage, singing sappy love song after sappy love song, directing bedroom eyes at Nick. Blaine has to wonder where the showtunes are, and when Nick joins Kurt on the stage for a rendition of “Silly Love Songs,” he feels a jab in his heart. He caves into the urge he’s had all evening and orders a beer, downing most of it before Kurt and Nick are even halfway through the song.

He’s already moved onto his second beer when Kurt and Nick finish the song, and they laugh, smiling brightly, their cheeks flushed. Blaine manages a weak smile, raising his glass in a toast to them. “Yay,” he says with fake enthusiasm, and he can see the disapproval in Kurt’s eyes.

“I didn’t know you drink,” Kurt says, sniffing a little.

Blaine shrugs slightly, taking another sip of his beer. “Just occasionally,” he says.

“Hey, you should sing something,” Nick says suddenly as he slouches in his chair. His arm is draped across the back of Kurt’s chair, and he’s got a casual smile on his face. “Kurt’s always talking about how great you sound, and I’d love to hear you.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” Blaine says, shaking his head. “I’m just-” He abruptly cuts off as Kurt turns those pitiful little puppy dog eyes on him, and he feels his resistance crumbling. “Well, okay, maybe one song.”

As he’s stepping up to the mic, having already told the piano player the song he has in mind to sing, he knows it’s a bad idea. His palms are sweaty as he cups the mic, and he gives a nervous nod to the piano man, who starts to play the opening chords of Without You, from Blaine’s favorite musical Rent.

He pours his heart into the song, his gaze unconsciously locking onto Kurt’s as he sings of flowers blooming and children singing, the world turning and how “Life goes on, but I’m gone, ‘cause I die without you,” he finishes, holding that last note until the piano man has played his last melody. He blushes, looking embarrassed as the crowd starts to applaud, and he smiles.

“Thank you,” he says as he hands the mic back to the man at the piano. He can feel Kurt’s awed gaze on him, and is that a flicker of understanding in his friend’s eyes? Nick is frowning a little when Blaine rejoins them at the table, and Nick drapes his arms around Kurt’s shoulders, drawing Kurt closer. Blaine doesn’t miss the challenging glare Nick shoots over Kurt’s head, and he merely offers a casual smile.

They spend another hour at the bar, just listening to the other patrons brave enough to get up and sing into the mic, and Blaine’s starting to feel sleepy, propping his elbow on the table and resting his chin in his hand. The alcohol in his system certainly isn’t helping matters, and his head is starting to droop and slip off his cupped hand when Kurt nudges him.

“I think it’s time to call it a night,” Kurt says softly. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Blaine must say something along the lines of agreeing because the next thing he remembers, he’s tumbling rather unceremoniously to the floorboards in the back of Nick’s Land Rover as the vehicle lurks to a stop outside his hotel. Kurt mutters something to Nick; Blaine can’t quite make out the words -- his ears feel a lot like they’ve got cotton balls shoved inside them. He’s only dimly aware of Kurt helping him out of the Land Rover, and then they’re stumbling inside, Kurt somehow supporting Blaine’s weight.

“I love you,” Blaine slurs as they reach the elevator.

“Blaine, I think you should be quiet now,” Kurt says softly as he punches the button for Blaine’s floor. “You’re drunk and you don’t know what you’re-”

“No!” Blaine interrupts, a scowl on his face. “No, Kurt, I-I do know what I’m saying! I shoulda said it sooner! Years ago, back when we were at Dalton!” He tries to stand up straighter, pointing a finger at Kurt, and he sways a little on his feet. “Kurt Hummel, I love you.”

Kurt touches his fingertips to his forehead, heaving a heavy sigh. “Oh, Blaine,” he starts to say. He pauses as the elevator dings, and he grabs Blaine’s arm, leading out and to his door. “You should sleep. You’ll forget all about this in the morning. Can I have your room key?”

Blaine stares at Kurt for a few moments, swaying back and forth on his feet, before he straightens to his full height. “For a kiss,” he declares, sounding startlingly more sober than he has since he started drinking.

Kurt’s eyebrows lift in surprise and then he snorts and shakes his head. “No, Blaine. Just give me your-” He cuts off with a gasp as Blaine’s lips are suddenly crushed against his. He manages a tiny squeak of protest, and then melts into the kiss as Blaine’s hand cups the back of his neck. Kurt knows that he shouldn’t do it; there are dozens of reasons why it’s a bad idea -- his boyfriend waiting downstairs, for starters -- but he can’t stop himself from reciprocating.

He gasps, his mouth parting instinctively as Blaine’s tongue brushes his lips, and he has to force himself to pull away as Blaine licks into his mouth, a move that sends a heady bolt of lust and desire shooting through him. He presses his hand flat against Blaine’s chest, elbow locked, and he digs in his heels as the other young man tries to lean in and reclaim his lips. “No,” he breathes, shaking his head. “Blaine, no, we can’t. I-”

He feels guilt stab into him at the hurt, confused look on Blaine’s face, but he squared his shoulders. “I can’t-- no, I won’t do this to Nick. He’s a good guy, and he deserves better than this.” His face does soften a little as he touches Blaine’s cheek. “If you still feel like this in the morning when you’re sober, call me and we’ll talk. Until then...” He leans in and brushes his lips against Blaine’s in a tender kiss and tries to ignore the electricity that zings through him. “Good night, Blaine.”

Blaine gives a slow blink, turning to watch Kurt walk away, and he frowns. “Kurt, wait,” he pleads. “I really mean what I say. I love you.”

Kurt smiles as he presses the call button on the elevator. “Tell me that when you’re sober, Blaine.”

~-~

Blaine doesn’t remember letting himself into his hotel room or passing out on the bed, but he wakes up facedown on the comforter, still wearing his clothes from the previous night. His mouth is dry and tastes like a dirty ass, and his head is pounding.

Much of what happened the previous night is a blur, but he has a foggy recollection of kissing Kurt. He rolls over onto his side and then sits up, bringing his hand up to his mouth. His fingers brush across his lower lip as he ponders, trying to recreate the kiss in his mind, and his eyes suddenly widen as flashes of their conversation come back to him.

”I really mean what I say. I love you.”

“Tell me that when you’re sober, Blaine.”

He scrambles up out of bed, ignoring the way his head starts to pound harder in protest, and he frantically searches his clothes for his cell phone. He checks his pockets and comes up empty, and he’s about to have a panic attack when he spots his jacket, carelessly tossed in the closet. He scoops it up and digs through the pockets, breathing a sigh of relief as he finds his phone. He quickly dials Kurt’s number and then curses as he gets Kurt’s voicemail.

A quick glance at the clock almost sends him into another potential panic attack as he sees he’s got about two and a half hours before Kurt’s Opening Night curtain call. He hangs up his phone and jumps into the shower, taking the world’s fastest shower. Racing out the door, he manages to find a street vendor selling flowers near the theatre, and he buys a bouquet.

He’s out of breath when he flashes his backstage pass at the security person, and he gives a grateful smile as he races back to Kurt’s dressing room. Knocking on the door, he takes a moment to compose himself and try to catch his breath so that he’s not wheezing like an old man with emphysema when Kurt answers the door.

Kurt finally opens the door, his face a mixture of emotions when he sees Blaine and the bouquet of roses in Blaine’s hand. “I want to be mad at you for almost being late to my big night,” Kurt says, narrowing his eyes, and Blaine’s heart sinks, certain that he’s dashed any hopes of them getting together. Then Kurt smiles brightly, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and Blaine feels his heart soar. “But you brought me flowers, and you did make it in time.”

Blaine lets Kurt pull him into the dressing room, and Kurt just barely gets the door shut before Blaine blurts out “I meant what I said last night.” Kurt blinks owlishly, frozen in his spot, and Blaine swallows heavily before he continues, “I’m sober and I remember what I said, and I meant every word of it, Kurt. I love you.”

Kurt still has that ‘deer in the headlights’ look on his face, and Blaine hesitates, frowning slightly. “Kurt,” he says slowly, his voice barely above a whisper, “say something. Please.”

Kurt shakes his head a little, taking a deep breath. “Blaine, this is-” He laughs softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles widely. “You’re such a dork. Why has it taken you so long to-” He moves forward and kisses Blaine sweetly, cupping Blaine’s face in his hands.

Blaine is so startled that, for a long moment, he just blinks rapidly, going a little cross-eyed because he’s staring at Kurt’s face so close to his. When it actually registers that yes, Kurt really is kissing him and he’s fully awake, he melts into the kiss, wrapping his arms tightly around Kurt’s waist and deepening the kiss.

After a few minutes, they part, both panting for breath, and Blaine frowns slightly. “What about Nick?” He doesn’t want to think about the other guy, and the thought of Kurt deciding to stay with Nick makes Blaine’s stomach churn.

Kurt’s quiet for a few moments before he reaches out and squeezes Blaine’s hand, giving him a gentle smile. “I’ll talk to him after the show,” he says. “I have to go though, the curtain’s about to go up.” He hesitates just a second and then shyly ducks his head, smiling. “I love you too, Blaine.”

Blaine’s heart soars at that, and he’s grinning like an idiot as he follows Kurt out of the dressing room. He’s still smiling when he takes his seat in the front row, and during the performance, he can’t help but lean over and whisper “That’s my boyfriend” to his neighbor in the chair beside him. He’s ridiculously proud of Kurt, and while he knows there’s potential drama awaiting them when Kurt breaks things off with Nick, for this moment, he’s the happiest he’s ever been.