Chapter Text
Kurt glances around, taking in the darkened theater. He’s still in costume, though he’s taken off King David’s vest and hooded head piece. The chain work means they’re too heavy for ordinary wear. He’s the last one here. The Sunday matinee was well attended but now it’s early evening and the curtains are down. Kurt lifts himself to perch on the edge of the stage, pulls out his phone and dials.
“Kurt!”
“Hi dad.”
There’s a smile in his dad’s voice. It reaches right down into Kurt’s heart. “Carole thought you’d call us earlier in the week. But I figured we’d have to wait until Monday’s lock out. Give you boys a chance to let things settle in.”
His dad’s office chair emits a familiar creak at the other end of the phone line. “I've got something to tell you, dad.”
“Course you do. Is Blaine there?”
Kurt shakes his head. He’s distracted by the thought of Blaine at his apartment, shifting between the keyboard and the laptop, hair disheveled. “He missed today’s show. He’s working on writing something new. I haven’t seen it yet.”
“Would’ve liked to talk to him too.”
Kurt pauses. He rolls his eyes and smiles as he realizes something. “You already know,” he says. “Dad! I was calling to tell you.”
“I’ve known you all your life, kid.” His dad sounds pleased with himself. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Get you boys back in a room together working on something you care about…”
Kurt shifts and leans more comfortably against a pillar at the edge of the stage. “What do you think about it?”
“It’s not what I think that matters, Kurt.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
“Look, you’re an independent kid. You’ve always done things your own way, even before you maybe had to. And that’s great. That’s you and I’m proud of you. But doing things your own way doesn't always mean doing them alone. Anyway, I like Blaine. He’s a good man – he gets you and he watches football with me. That’s gotta be an unusual combination.”
Kurt laughs. He’s not sure why he was nervous about this conversation.
His dad says, “I don’t think I need to ask if you’re happy. But it’s my job. So are you happy?”
There's no need to consider his answer. “I’m happy.” He thinks about saying this is everything I ever wanted. But that’s not true. Kurt has wanted a lot of things. Stardom, safety, great roles, the respect of his peers, his mother around for his tenth birthday, access to the Agi Mdumulla fall collection. The extraordinary thing about his relationship with Blaine is that it has never eclipsed those things, but has somehow simply become a part of them.
“And if you’re happy, I’m happy. I’ve watched you through a lot of things. Your mom, the stuff at school, when you kept having nightmares about Mickey Rooney’s face.”
“I’m pretty sure it was Mickey Rourke’s face, dad.”
“That right? Poor guy. Either way I’ve watched you through some hard stuff. And I know some of it had to do with that boy. But it always seemed like you thought he was worth it.”
“Yeah. I do.” It’s a steady pulse inside.
“And that’s a good thing. Now tell me how’s the show going? When are you headed back to New York?”
“That’s the other thing,” says Kurt. “We’ve got three weeks left on this run, and it’s wonderful, I’ll tell you all about it. But first - after the show’s over it looks like Blaine’s moving to New York with me.”
“Good,” says his dad. “That makes sense. Though don’t ask me to be there when you tell Santana.”
“Oh,” Kurt stops. “I don’t know if he’s moving in with me, dad.” If he’d thought about it at all he’d probably imagined Blaine in a Lower East Side studio: narrow but well-lit, keyboard in one corner and fresh Egyptian cotton sheets on the bed.
“Okay,” says his dad. “You’re old enough to know what you want.” They talk about the shop and Blaine and his dad’s health and Blaine and the show and his new friends and Carole and Finn and Blaine.
And that’s it. Simple. Kurt’s feels like he could just blow away with how beautifully simple everything is.
**
Blaine looks up the street. He jumps up and down a little in the pool of streetlight and lets his feet skip on the sidewalk. There’s no sign of the Muni. It’ll certainly come sometime, though, and it’s hard to mind when he is on his way to friends, to music and a piano bar. To Kurt.
He wonders if being with Kurt will always feel like this. Like it’s summer, every day. Like the blue skies will never end.
All the songs in his head are about sunshine.I’ve got sunshine, here comes the sun, sometimes the sun shines on me, don’t let the sun go down, you are the sunshine, like a blister in the sun… This is ridiculous. It’s night time. Blaine drops his chin to his chest and laughs at himself.
A bus turns the corner and heads up the street. He hails it happily. He hasn’t seen Kurt all day but if the lights are on his side, La Soir is only ten minutes ride from here.
Kurt is already in the basement bar. He seems eye-catchingly bright even in the low light. He’s sitting on one of the couches, long legs crossed casually as he sips on a cocktail and listens to Amaryllis singing, “Heart of Glass”. On one side Elisha is leaning back in his chair, eyes on the stage. On the other Tina and Tex pore over the song list. Wes and his fiancée Doris are with them. It’s going to be a good night.
Kurt’s eyes catch Blaine’s across the room. His smile is warm and secret. Blaine beams back.
Tina looks up. She freezes for a moment, her eyes on Kurt’s face, then looks across the room at Blaine. She draws back a fist and punches Kurt in the arm. Blaine winces as he heads toward them. The hit looked painful.
“You assholes,” she says as Blaine approaches. “You total assholes.” Tex looks at her then turns to Blaine and Kurt quickly and grins. “How long has this been going on?” asks Tina.
There’s a pause.
“To my knowledge, only about seven days,” says Wes politely.
“You knew?” she asks, glaring though she hardly knows Wes.
“Difficult to miss, really,” he says.
“True that,” interjects Elisha.
“Oh no you don’t, guys,” says Kurt. “We’ve been irreproachable. Entirely professional. We haven’t even brushed fingers on set.”
“No matter how hard that’s been,” adds Blaine.
“I don’t doubt that,” says Wes. He is caught in thought for a moment. “It’s just – It’s obvious.”
“You said it’s in the eyes, babe,” says Doris. Her voice is soft. Everyone turns to her and she colors a little under her black hair and freckles. “Inner joy?” she says, embarrassed. Wes pats her knee a little.
Tina sighs theatrically. “Ugh, they’ve done that forever,” she says. “Soulmate eyes, hearts and flowers and serenades. But seriously, guys, this is for real?”
“It’s for real,” says Kurt and Blaine smiles at her, projecting certainty.
Tina’s gaze flicks between them. “Okay,” she says. She shakes her head and mutters to herself.
“Right,” says Tex. This calls for a love song. Which of you two is up first?”
“Oh no, you guys hear me every night,” says Kurt. “It’s your turn, Blaine.”
Blaine is disconcerted. He hasn’t even looked at the song list yet.
“Nah Kurt’s first, Carmody’s already queued one up,” says Elisha. “You’re going to love it.”
Kurt raises an eyebrow but people are already clapping for him and several are pushing him toward the stage.
“Okay okay. No need to paw the jacket,” mutters Kurt brushing hands away from his James Dean windbreaker. He steps toward the piano and Blaine watches him hide a smile as he reads the song Carmody has selected.
When the music starts Blaine feels that bubbling laughter inside, half horror, half delight. Elisha slaps his back and Carmody winks across at him. Kurt moves to center stage and struts a little, bringing his best boots-are-made-for-walking attitude.
Here you come again, just when I’d begun to get myself together, he sings and Blaine throws his head back and laughs. It’s perfect really, though Kurt looks away as he sings about pretty lies. But then, All you gotta do is smile that smile, and there go all my defences. Kurt sings with his eyes laughing and dark on Blaine. There are some whoops from their tables.
Kurt angles his hips and walks the stage and Blaine would watch this forever.
“What are you gonna sing, Blainey-days?” asks Tina as Kurt exits stage left and everyone claps. He takes a couple more bows and smiles at Blaine sheepishly.
“No idea,” says Blaine because all the songs he can think of are still about sunshine and the dizzying delights of having this boy back in his heart. And he really thinks they don’t need more of that.
“How about some Springsteen,” says Tina.
He nods. “Sure.” He’s still watching Kurt.
Tina squeezes his hand. “You can take your eyes off him for one second,” she says.
“I know,” he says. “But he’s-“
“Blaine, you are so fucked,” she says.
“And I am fine with that,” he says and ignores her huff and giggle in favor of watching Kurt walk past everyone heading directly for Blaine. It feels good to be able to count on it again.
Blaine reaches out and pulls Kurt smoothly into his lap. He feels rather than sees Kurt’s swift careful glance around the room, that glance any gay boy growing up in the middle of America developed over the years. Some of Kurt’s beauty, that quickness in his glance, is horrifyingly tied up in all the ways he has been unsafe.
Blaine wraps an arm about Kurt’s slight waist and presses a kiss to his shoulder. It’s a karaoke bar in the heart of San Francisco. No one can touch them here.
Later Blaine sings Springsteen. It’s incredible being on stage again, singing with the whole room in the palm of his hand. He grins at Kurt and changes the genders as he goesI want to know if love is wild, boy, I want to know if love is real. Kurt never looks away. When Blaine finishes, he applauds like Blaine has done something extraordinary.