Work Text:
“I can’t believe you got the VIP and didn’t tell me,” says a very perturbed Kurt. He and Blaine are standing outside the theatre, and everything’s awkward now because there is a line for VIP holders—like Blaine—and another for Kurt. Kurt’s line is much longer; the two boys can’t even see where it ends, and to top it off it’s one of those humid summer days where rain threatens but never seems to come. There’s so much moisture in the air that a few curls are already breaking free from Blaine’s gel. “What am I supposed to do now?” Kurt says, still angry, waving his hand feebly at the line that seems to disappear at the corner of the street. “How will I even be able to find you when the show starts?” he adds.
Clearly, Blaine hasn’t thought this through.
“I sort of . . .” Blaine begins, but doesn’t know what comes next.
Kurt huffs and says, shaking his head, “You and your Darren Criss obsession.”
“What?” Blaine shrugs, then checks his watch. “Sam and Tina should be here soon—you’ll be able to get a spot with them. I just . . . I really have to meet him, you know.”
Kurt crosses his arms in front of his chest and says, “I’ve always supported your musical interests, Blaine. I just wish I would’ve known I was spending the evening with Sam—and Tina. I still can’t believe what she—“
“You’re not spending the entire ‘evening’ with them,” Blaine counters, cutting off Kurt and smiling fondly. “We’ll hang out with them afterwards, and then you and I will be waiting by the bus. We’ll have plenty of time together.”
“The bus,” Kurt says, side-eyeing Blaine. It’s not a question.
Blaine looks back at Kurt, the realization that he’s just said something incriminating written all over his face. “Uh . . .” he manages. “The tour bus? Darren’s tour bus.”
Kurt says nothing.
Blaine lowers his head, rubbing his hand across his forehead. “Okay, so after the shows people wait for him by the bus and he like, takes the time to say hello to everyone. It’s special, it’s . . .”
Kurt looks exactly the same as he did before: he’s staring at Blaine as if he’s seeing him for the very first time.
“Kurt,” Blaine says. “Say something.” Blaine can tell Kurt is taking the time to choose his words very carefully, but he’s not sure if those words are going to soothe or cut. He readies himself either way.
“So you’re a . . . you’re a groupie now, you’re Bebe Buell, you’re . . . Who are you?”
“I’m not,” replies Blaine, indignant. “I’ve always loved music, and musical artists, I—“
“I don’t remember you ever waiting for them by their tour buses, Blaine.”
Kurt’s still looking at him funny, but Blaine knows this is really just what happens to friends who live so far away from one another: time and distance apart make even the smallest changes in a person stand out. And as Blaine spots Sam and Tina heading their way, he realizes that time together has a similar effect—instead it’s the identity of the person rather than how they’ve changed that comes into clearer view. He smiles as his friends approach.
Sam walks up to Blaine and says, “Dude, we’re here to see the dude of your dreams.” He pauses. “Well, seeing as I’m already the dude of your dreams,” he starts, looking at Kurt, who’s eye-rolling him back, “and Kurt here is the ex-dude of your dreams, this is like the space-time continuum of dream dudes.” Noticing Blaine’s reaction, which is somewhere between embarrassment and shock, Sam adds, “Or something.” And then, as he catches Tina glaring at him, “Or nothing!”
“Thanks, Sam,” Blaine says, a bit tight-lipped, but then something relaxes in him as he looks over at the VIP line. “I can’t believe this is happening!” he says excitedly, clutching his lanyard. Tina leans in and kisses him on the cheek. “Have fun in there,” she says, as she hooks her arms onto Sam’s and Kurt’s and steers them away. Kurt looks back at Blaine, no longer angry so much as curious. “See you later?” Kurt asks.
“Of course!” Blaine says, then shouts, “Watch his outfit! He, um, is into fashion. You’ll like it, probably.”
“And even if I don’t,” Kurt replies, smiling broadly now, “I’ll be sure to tell you about it.”
Blaine laughs and floats all the way to the VIP line.
————
Seeing Darren up close, seeing Darren for real, what impresses Blaine most is how tiny his idol is.
Everything about the experience is both crystalline and blurry. He remembers studying Darren’s silhouette through a gauzy black curtain. He remembers hearing his name on Darren’s lips, taking note of the gloss of his curls (so unlike the dull bird’s nest his own hair becomes without gel). He remembers smiling, and being at a loss for words, except to ask politely if Darren would “bro hug” him for the photo (so stupid—did he actually say that?). He remembers the feel of stubble against his clean-shaven cheek as the camera flashes.
As for the show itself, Blaine notes with interest (as an artist himself) everything he can, from the staging and lighting to the way Darren works the crowd (the way he moves and leads), even if what he remembers the most is wanting like burning to be the night’s Picture Perfect Girl.
He isn’t.
—————
When Blaine meets up with his friends after the show, he’s wired. Tina approaches him first and the two of them are literally bouncing, she mostly because she’s mirroring Blaine’s energy. “Oh my God!” she yells, as she grasps his elbows in a loose, jumping hug. He can tell that if she wasn’t a huge fan of Darren before, she totally is now.
“I know!” he yells back, still bouncing. Sam joins them, and they form a kind of ecstatic ring. “Why are we jumping?” he asks, while jumping.
Kurt’s giggling next to them. “You three act like you’ve never been to a concert before,” he says, not jumping.
They stop, finally, and Blaine gushes about his experience. He’s giddy. It’s this feeling, he thinks. This feeling is the reason he performs. To make someone else feel this . . .
“Dude really rocks,” says Sam. “You were right!”
Tina, Blaine and Sam share more stories (Tina swears she saw Darren’s girlfriend in the balcony) and then there’s a funny little moment where the three friends suddenly look at each other and say simultaneously, “We need. To start. A band!”
As they walk outside the venue, and the warm humidity from earlier has given way to a cool, clear night, Blaine and Kurt let Sam and Tina walk ahead of them. “You’re quiet,” Blaine says, and pauses for a moment before adding, “What did you think? Be honest.”
“He reminds me,” Kurt says, “of New York, actually. Just that, at NYADA, people can be so full of themselves. He’s not. Or he acts like he’s not, at any rate. Being hot doesn’t hurt,” he adds, laughing. “And you . . .” he trails off.
“Tell me,” Blaine says.
“It’s nothing,” Kurt says, hands in his pockets. “You were right,” he says instead, “about the outfit. At least he starts off in a nicely-tailored jacket.”
They laugh, then Kurt stops walking abruptly. “The bus!” he says. Tina and Sam stop and turn around. All three look at Blaine.
“It’s okay,” says Blaine. “We don’t have to. I’m good, actually. Great.” He’s still floating—and it’s not because of Darren so much now as his friends. It’s a wonderful feeling, to share this night with them.
They all stand there for a moment in the night, as a cool breeze makes the leaves rustle in the nearby park.
“We should go back,” Kurt says, to everyone’s surprise. “I’m not convinced he’s a real person,” he adds, airily.
“I might have to check that his biceps are real,” Tina says seriously.
“Yes. We need to gather evidence,” Kurt nods, then bursts into laughter.
“I protest your objectification of the Artist Formerly Known as Darren Criss,” announces Sam. “Er, the Artist Known as Darren Criss.”
“Sam’s right,” says Blaine. “He’s an artist. We should respect that.”
“Oh give me a break, Blaine,” says Tina. “You want him.”
“I . . .” Blaine begins, but doesn’t bother finishing his sentence. The others have already started walking back toward the bus, and he lets their laughter tug him forward into what will, not long from now, be a new day.