“Jesus Christ, Kurt! Are you okay?”

Artie wheels on stage quickly when Kurt takes his first step and stumbles, knees wobbling, almost tumbling head first into the orchestra pit.

“Yeah,” Kurt grumbles, crouching in an awkward position to nurse the knee that broke his fall, trying with all his might not to end up on his backside. “Yeah, I'm fine. Just lost my balance.”

“What happened between last night and this morning?” Artie asks, watching Blaine rush to help a clumsy Officer Krupke rise unsteadily to his feet. “Last night, you were on fire. This morning, you're a beached jellyfish.”

Kurt hears a hushed whisper and a giggle come from somewhere behind him, and he ignores it, but the tips of his ears start to burn.

“I think I can tell you what happened,” Santana snickers from offstage.

“Nothing,” Kurt answers quickly, trying to cover for her commentary. “I just…I took an Ambien when I got home last night. I couldn't sleep - you know, opening night jitters. I guess it hasn't completely worn off yet.”

“Nice save,” Santana laughs.

“I know what you mean,” Artie commiserates, nodding sympathetically. “If I hadn't OD'd on Fettucine Alfredo at Breadstix, I would have never gone to sleep. But you've got to get past those butterflies.” Artie claps his hands down on his legs. “You guys did it last night, you know you can do it again…”

From offstage, Santana doubles over, her cackle echoing backstage. Blaine buries his face in Kurt's shoulder, his cheeks flaming red.

“Why don't you guys just take five, and…”

The rest of Artie's sentence gets drowned out by a second burst of laughter, and Kurt knows that whatever Santana suspects, she's already told Brittany about it, possibly Tina.

“That's five minutes!” Artie calls. He rolls away, giving up on this conversation in hopes that his actors will come back in a better head space.

“That's the third time you've tripped,” Blaine points out, supporting Kurt as he gingerly pulls himself up straight.

“Well, I'm a little sore,” Kurt chuckles, the blush on his ears bleeding down to his face.

“So, you still have no regrets?” Blaine asks, hissing sympathetically when he finally gets a glimpse of the stage rash on Kurt's knee.

“Only one,” Kurt admits with a slight groan as he attempts to take a step.

“Oh?” Blaine's voice dips with disappointment that Kurt might regret anything about their first night together.

“Yeah,” Kurt says. “That Artie decided to schedule a last minute emergency rehearsal the morning after the greatest first time in history.”