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Blaine stops and nearly runs into Nora, the bartender, who carries a mercifully empty tray but sends him a mild glare anyway.
"Sorry," he says politely, but she shrugs and leaves him where he stands, smoothing his hair and adjusting his bowtie in case —
In case what? In case he runs into his high school sweetheart on the job? In case Kurt turns his head slightly to the left and catches Blaine in his line of vision — Blaine whose fingers suddenly feel too big for his hands and whose throat feels too tight for his breath.
It's not much different from stage fright, which he still gets sometimes before performances, but he knows how to deal with that — to push through and pretend until the confidence becomes genuine.
He's never been able to pretend with Kurt, and it's that thought that makes him flush warm, rooted to the spot when Kurt turns and catches him staring.
"Kurt?"
"Blaine?"
Kurt's tone is one of genuine shock, and it's then that Blaine realizes that of course Kurt wouldn't expect to see him here. They haven't spoken since the breakup, nearly six years ago.
"I was just...walking into my dressing room."
Kurt blinks. "Oh. You perform here?"
"Yeah," Blaine answers with a shy grin. It feels different from the first time they met — the years of radio silence hanging heavy between them — yet Blaine flashes back to a boy on a staircase playing pretend and feels a disorienting sense of role reversal.
"You look great," Blaine says, and he curses his own mouth because that was not what he'd meant to say to his (still stunning) ex-boyfriend. Kurt doesn't say anything though, and Blaine impulsively presses on. "I have to go prep for the show — I sing here, at the piano bar — but if you want to come and watch? I'll be here in about an hour."
-
Kurt shows up at that night's performance, and there's no way Kurt hasn't recognized him; he has a clear view of Blaine at the piano and the bar is only about half full. Blaine is grateful for the extra time his set gives him.
He throws Kurt a tentative smile during "It's Still Rock and Roll to Me," expecting a flinch or a flicker of discomfort when their eyes meet. Kurt smiles back though, slow and warm and so familiar that Blaine doesn't return his glance until he closes out with "Wonderful Tonight," watching Kurt with careful eyes as he sings words like I feel wonderful and my darling.
The bar patrons clap as the song ends. Slow jazz and bar chatter fill the gaps in the air as Kurt makes his way to the piano.
"Hi," Blaine says, feeling his smile grow with every step Kurt takes. His arms wrap Kurt up in a friendly hug like it's nothing, and it doesn't get awkward until Blaine realizes how good he feels. He lets go with reluctance, already missing the way Kurt's hands feel around his waist.
"Hi," Kurt says, mouth twisted up at one corner. "It's good to see you."
"Um," Blaine starts. "Can I get you a drink?"
Kurt nods, and they move to the bar, where Nora greets Blaine with a cheerful grin. "Sea Breeze?"
"Yes please," he replies. "And for Kurt..."
"Sex on the Beach."
Nora nods, and when she turns away Blaine can't help but tilt his head.
"Sex on the Beach? Really?"
"I like them sweet," Kurt says, meeting his eyes straight on.
"So you do," Blaine murmurs, heat prickling into his cheeks. The drinks come, and Blaine digs for his wallet, grateful for the excuse to break the tension.
"No, no — um, I can pay for my own — " Kurt babbles, flustered, and Blaine blinks.
"Don't be silly," he says, setting down the cash and leaving Nora a good-sized tip. "I invited you to — unless you're here? With someone else?" Blaine swallows. "I don't mean to presume anything — this is just — we're just — "
Kurt reaches for one of Blaine's hands and Blaine goes absolutely still. "Blaine. It's okay. Thank you." He laughs, letting Blaine's hand drop to the counter. "And I'm here — I'm not with anyone. At all, right now."
Blaine frowns. "Are you here for business, then?"
"Hardly." Kurt sips his drink. "I needed a vacation. Badly"
"Ah." Blaine winces. "Work's tough?"
"No, not at all. And I guess that's the problem, isn't it?" Kurt laughs softly. "You've made a life here, haven't you? Must be nice. Vegas." He says the word like a secret joke.
"It has its moments."
"Oh?"
"Yeah!" Blaine swallows around a dry throat. "How — have you been here long? Seen much of the city?"
Kurt shakes his head. "I've only been here a couple of days. I took a bus tour through the Strip the first night, and yesterday afternoon I took a walk around."
"Vegas..." Blaine echoes Kurt's tone from earlier. "Forgive me," he says with a bashful chuckle, "but I never would've expected you to choose a place like this."
"There was a deal...with the airfare and the motel and everything. I needed to get out of Ohio. I grabbed the first chance I saw."
"So you took a chance?"
"I did."
Blaine smiles. "I guess this trip is more of a Kurt move than I thought."
There's a pause where Kurt's face grows shuttered, tightening around his mouth, and then he drains the last of his drink before looking straight back at Blaine. "And sometimes you don't get a choice, but you make it work anyway."
"Yeah," Blaine says softly. There are layers to Kurt's words and instead of backing off, he blurts out what he'd been wanting to say since they sat down. "What are you doing tomorrow night?"
"I..." Kurt starts, clearly taken aback. "I'm not sure. Yet."
"I have a three o'clock afternoon performance, but I get off at five, and..." Blaine ducks his head, then looks back up. Kurt's face is still unreadable, though his chest is still with the absence of breath. "Will you — would you like to have dinner with me? Somewhere away from the Strip. I could um, show you around if you want..."
Kurt blinks slowly, mouth open, but he nods. "That sounds great," he says, breathy and looking about as flustered as Blaine feels.
"Yeah? Good." Blaine doesn't even try to hide his goofy grin. "Come by the bar after my show. I'll see you then."
When Blaine steps through the door of his suite, he knows the alcohol isn't responsible for the bubbles in his chest, and every part of him feels tingly, hungry, giddy with anticipation.
-
The next morning — noon, actually, as work keeps him pretty nocturnal — Blaine puts his plan into action. He stops by the corner grocery to pick up some food and a bottle of champagne, and fills his travel cooler with ice right before he heads downstairs to play.
He hadn't really expected Kurt to be there for his performance, but he smiles when he spots Kurt front and center through the set. He ends with an encore, surprised he even remembers how to play, but once he hits the first few chords it's almost like muscle memory, the way he can slip into the song.
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin...
"You came!" Blaine exclaims when he steps offstage, drawing Kurt into a hug without a trace of last night's hesitancy.
"We had plans," Kurt says with a gentle smile. "Of course I showed up."
"I just...didn't expect you to come for the whole set."
Brushing it off, Kurt says, "I've always loved watching you sing." He laughs softly. "I'm glad I get to see you here."
After grabbing the cooler from his room upstairs (he invites Kurt up, but Kurt stammers that he'd rather wait in the lobby) they get into Blaine's car and drive.
The twenty-minute ride is silent, but it's comfortable, with Kurt staring out the window and Blaine concentrating on the road. When they step out of the car, Kurt's eyes widen as he turns in a slow circle.
"Wow."
"Right?" Blaine says, smiling brightly. He sets up a blanket and sets out the food while Kurt takes in the scenery.
"It's beautiful," Kurt can't stop saying, and Blaine's stomach flips a little at the wonder in his voice.
Blaine clears his throat delicately, presenting the cold deli sandwiches and chilled champagne and bowing at the waist in a way that makes him feel silly and at-home all at once. "Welcome to Red Rock Canyon. Shall we dine?"
Settling cross-legged onto the blanket, they watch a couple of bighorn sheep climb an impossibly steep cliff, silhouetted against the sunset. Blaine finishes his sandwich first, catching Kurt's eye as he leans back on his elbows to watch the sun go down.
"Do you come here often?" Kurt says, breaking the silence. He delicately licks a few crumbs off his fingers and Blaine gasps a little, distracted.
"Huh?"
"I was saying, do you come here often?" Kurt flops down and stretches out beside Blaine, resting his head on folded hands. "With other people?"
"I — no. No I don't. Not often." Kurt raises an eyebrow, and Blaine turns to face him, mirroring his position. "Kurt," he begins, suddenly too aware of everything he'd hoped for. "I haven't dated anyone — I've barely even looked at another guy — in over a year."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
Kurt drags a hand out from under his cheek and fiddles with a loose blanket thread. "It's been three years for me."
"Kurt..."
"Nobody's ever made me feel like you do."
He's lying down but Blaine's knees tremble anyway. "How?"
"Loved."
Kurt closes his eyes after he says it, keeping them shut for moments until Blaine finds the breath to reply. He sucks in a shaky breath and whispers, "I know what you mean."
"Why'd we break up, Blaine?"
There's nothing angry in Kurt's voice; it'd almost be a neutral question if not for the intensity in Kurt's bright eyes, and Blaine resists the urge to look away.
"We were young," he finally says, lifting an arm and letting it drop to his thigh. "It was so hard — the distance, it was the worst thing that could've happened to us."
"I know that, but why'd we break up? Why haven't we spoken in six years? We said we'd be friends — Blaine, friends don't just let each other go, friends see each other, friends call each other up, friends post on each other's Facebook walls even after they set their relationship status to single." Kurt's eyes are wet now, not unlike Blaine's. "Friends don't let each other go like that."
"It wasn't just me, Kurt — you stopped talking to me, too — "
"I know," Kurt chokes out. "That's what I hate so much — that if I had just tried harder, I could've had all of this — seeing you again, watching you perform, lying here next to you has made me feel more than I have in six years." He finishes quietly, pulling the blanket thread loose.
"Feel more what?" Blaine prompts, not daring to hope.
"Feel more," Kurt answers, wiping moisture from his eyes with the back of his hand. "I get paid minimum wage to superglue feathers and spray perfume on women. I had plans. I would be performing, or designing, or doing anything but this, and I'd be married by thirty, and — " Kurt breaks off, biting his lip. "Are you happy?"
Blaine answers quietly, unsure of the right answer. "Kurt, I love my job."
"I know that, Blaine, anyone with eyes could see it, but — are you happy?"
Shrugging, Blaine says simply, "I like my life, but...I thought I'd have you in it, too."
Kurt shifts to lie flat on his back, knees up and arms folded across his chest, and Blaine stares at the sharp lines of Kurt's profile before turning his body to do the same.
Rolling back over to face Blaine, Kurt speaks. "It's late. Shouldn't we head back?"
"It's not late at all." Blaine frowns. It's barely half past six and the sun isn't even all the way down yet, low evening light casting a purple veil across the sky.
"Is it?"
"Kurt, would you stop talking around whatever it is you're trying to say, I can't — "
"Blaine," Kurt says, low and even. "Do you remember the conversation we had when we — when I ended things with you?"
"Um," Blaine says, taken aback. "I — how could I forget? You told me it was too hard to be apart like this, that we hadn't been able to talk more than once every two weeks, that you couldn't do this anymore..."
"You idiot." Kurt sits up abruptly, and Blaine scrambles to follow suit.
"What?"
"I'd called you to tell you it was too hard, but I wanted to try harder." Kurt laughs, shaking his head and looking skyward. "I was banking on spending the rest of my life with you."
"So was I."
"We were young," Kust says with a sigh, tucking his knees in close. "Do you think we'd have worked out? If we'd stayed together? If we'd never drifted apart?"
"It's hard to say." Blaine lifts his shoulders. "We could have tried. It might have ruined us for good, but I think we could've given it a good shot."
"It doesn't matter now, though."
"No," Blaine agrees, looking away. "No, it doesn't."
"It doesn't," Kurt says, softly yet with a firm assurance, "because well, we're both here, and I've had the most incredible night and I didn't even have to take my clothes off, and I want to be with you so badly, I'm shaking with it."
Blaine gapes, mouth moving uselessly. "Um. That''s probably because it's like, thirty degrees out here — "
"Blaine."
"Sorry," he says. "I'm just — a little nervous right now. But I — do you think we could?"
Kurt nudges him with an elbow. "Would you have planned the world's most romantic platonic picnic if you didn't think we had a chance?"
"It's you," Blaine says. "I don't think I ever knew how to be friends with you, Kurt. We couldn't be friends, after."
"Look. My life is in Ohio. I'm not ready to pack everything up and follow you."
Blaine swallows. The thought of Kurt leaving again hurts more than it should, especially after everything they'd said, but somehow falling in love again makes everything feel worse.
"But," Kurt continues, a small, hopeful smile gracing his face. "If you want to try again — try harder — I'd like to?"
"Well," Blaine says, lightheaded and warm all over despite the desert chill. "We are older."
"Mmhmm," Kurt responds.
"And wiser."
"Sure are," Kurt says, reaching for Blaine's hand, and Blaine hopes his palms are adequately moisturized because this is it, and when their lips meet it's just so achingly good that Blaine has to shiver with happiness, and —
"Blaine?" Kurt breaks the kiss, and Blaine chases his lips before coming to his senses. "Yes?"
"It's thirty degrees out. We should probably get back to the hotel. Thank you for tonight. It was amazing."
"Oh." Blaine tries not to be too disappointed as he moves to pack up, "Yeah, we should — we should go back."
"To your hotel room," Kurt clarifies, and he's failing to hide a smile that Blaine remembers very very fondly. "Because I've had the most incredible night, and I'd really like to take my clothes off."
"Oh."
They pack faster after that, and Blaine gives up on folding the blanket back into its neat square and flings it into the backseat. He's pretty sure he breaks a few traffic laws on the drive back, but every time he glances to his right and meets Kurt's eyes, he can't be bothered to care.
-
"It's funny," Kurt says, as Blaine holds on tight at the airport. Kurt has one hand on his suitcase handle and the other hand fiercely wrapped around Blaine's neck. "I came to Las Vegas with absolutely no plans to gamble."
Blaine laughs, muffled by Kurt's scarf — a cheap polyester square from the lobby gift shop. ("You need a souvenir," he'd said. "To uh, cover up the other souvenirs I gave you.")
"And you know what? I got lucky anyway."
"Yeah you did," Blaine says, waggling his eyebrows as he pulls back, and at Kurt's fond smile, Blaine leans back in for a chaste kiss and whispers into Kurt's ear.
"So did I."