Blaine is sat behind his desk working out possible dance moves for the Warblers latest number—maybe spin-spin-sassy-gun or a walk-jump-hands-out—when he gets the email notification. He glances at his computer screen and does a double take when he sees who it's from. Taking his feet off the desk and shuffling closer, he narrows his eyes at the name. Why the hell is Sue Sylvester emailing him?

He suspicion increases tenfold when he sees there's an attachment. He considers what it could potentially be and comes down to two options; either it's part of the New Directions' set list or some kind of offensive gay porn. Logically, therefore, he knows he shouldn't click on it, but Sue's ‘You need to see this, Twinkletush' is strangely compelling. Slowly he braces himself and clicks on the link, one hand reaching up to cover his eyes, the other ready to close the browser quickly, it's some kind of video and oh God, it's going to be porn isn't it—

Except it isn't. It really, really isn't and Blaine freezes as he watches it; by the end of the first ten seconds he's seeing red. 

***

Kurt sways along to their mash-up of ‘You Learn/You've Got A Friend', singing when he's supposed to and smiling at Santana as she tugs Brittany into the line (he fights the urge to grimace—he has to stop projecting his own stupid issues onto everyone else). He keeps dancing, trying to show their new members what Glee Club is all about, but then he unconsciously wags his finger and Santana's words come back to him.

Maybe Blaine needs someone with more than three dance moves…Maybe it's just that you're utterly intolerable. Maybe that's why it didn't work out.

Sure, Santana had been a bitch about it, but Kurt can't bring himself to stay angry at her because—well, because she's right. He had blamed Blaine and all his insecurities when, in reality, it was Kurt's own faults that had pushed them apart. And the funny thing was now that he'd lost the love of his life, Santana's words had become even truer; he was destined to grow old and ‘skulk around nursing homes' alone.

He clamps his mouth tighter together, forcing the smile to stay in place. He can't keep bringing his emotional issues into Glee—it's not fair on the new kids. But he's all-too aware that the effort is making his mouth look even more ‘like a cat's ass' and he really just wants to go home where no one can see him—or judge him—and have a good cry about how much his life sucks. About how much he sucks, to be honest.

They've just reached the final chorus when Rachel painfully elbows him in the stomach and he follows her gaze to see someone purposefully striding through the auditorium towards them. The stage lighting reflects off the gel on their head and Kurt's stomach flips in that weird pleasant-unpleasant way. Blaine. 

“This is a private rehearsal—“ Rachel starts, but Blaine ignores her, marching past Kurt to where Santana still has her arm slung over Brittany's shoulders.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demands, voice loud and angry and not at all Blaine-like. Kurt stares, completely bemused.

“What?” Santana untangles herself from Brittany, arms defensively crossing over her chest, although she, too, looks confused.

“You had no right to say all those things. That was mean and unnecessary and just downright cruel! I don't care if you're a fucking bitch on a mission, you don't kick someone when they're down—especially after all he's done for you!”

Blaine is near yelling now and it seems to dawn on Santana what he's on about.

“This is about Kurt?”

“Of course this is about Kurt!” Blaine hisses, moving into Santana's space. “Kurt, who's always supported you and put up with you and your crap—who let you live rent-free in his apartment for crying out loud! Kurt, who is the kindest, most talented person in this whole God-awful town and you felt the need to rip him apart earlier for no good reason. Well, guess what, Santana? That's not okay and if you think it is then there's something seriously wrong with you. Kurt's not the utterly intolerable one, you are, and I feel sorry for Brittany for having to put up with you!”

Blaine finishes and for a millisecond Kurt thinks he's going to hit her, but then he steps back, breathing hard as Santana stands completely still, stunned into silence.

“Um, well…” Rachel says tentatively after an awkward pause. “I think we'll finish here for today…um, great session guys!”

The new members look somewhere between confused and terrified and none of them hang around after Rachel's uncertain dismissal. Very slowly, Santana straightens her dress and takes Brittany's hand, walking out of the auditorium without looking at Blaine or Kurt. Rachel coughs, murmurs something about sheet-music and herds the rest of them out too.

Kurt fixes his eyes somewhere near Blaine's left shoe, unsure how to meet Blaine's gaze.

“Sorry about—that.” Blaine says awkwardly, hands running down the sides of his jeans. “I just—I saw what she said to you and it—it made me really mad so…” He trails off, and suddenly Kurt thinks of something.

“How did you even know what happened?” His voice sounds off to his own ears, but thankfully Blaine doesn't comment.

“Sue sent me a video. God knows how she got the footage in the first place, though. I'm starting to think she really does have spies everywhere.”

“Oh.” Kurt doesn't know what else to say really.

“You know it was all a load of rubbish, right?” Blaine asks, taking a step closer. “None of the stuff she said was true.”

Kurt shrugs. “She did kind of have a point.”

“No. She had absolutely no point whatsoever. Literally everything that came out of her mouth was untrue.”

“I am too judgemental and that makes me hard to be around. I spend my time putting on productions with geriatrics because I find people closer to my age annoying most of the time. I push people away and then blame them for things they didn't do—I'm the definition of intolerable. And she has a point about the dancing, too. I don't exactly have a large repertoire and I go to a performing arts school for God's sake!” 

“I love your shoulder shimmy.” Blaine states. He's smiling, but his eyes are so, so earnest.

Kurt rolls his eyes and drops his gaze once more, embarrassed at all his insecurities floating in the air between them.

“Come on, I'll buy you coffee.” Blaine holds out his hand and Kurt blinks at it, unsure if he's actually expected to take it. You don't have the right anymore, you selfishly broke his heart, a voice in the back of his head reminds him.

But Blaine stretches out further and takes Kurt's hand himself, then gently leads him towards the exit, squeezing slightly when Kurt attempts to curl in on himself.

“Plus,” Blaine says, tone lowering, his shoulder bumping against Kurt's. “I know for a fact that you're not ‘sexless'.”

He raises his eyebrows suggestively and Kurt grins in spite of himself.

“Aaaaand,” Blaine continues, rounding the corner to the main corridor. “Your smile is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen so Santana basically knows fuck all about everything.”

Kurt doesn't know if it's all the cussing Blaine's been doing, or their slightly clammy intertwined hands, or the way that Blaine still knows his coffee order when they get to the Lima Bean, but his insides spend the rest of the afternoon twisting in the most pleasant way possible. And for the first time since he saw Blaine in the bar, he feels a radiant, all-consuming hope.