#raar

As a sidenote, their friendship really does just add to the Wit being a metaphor for Queerness thing bc Kettricken saying "I am ashamed that you face such things seemingly alone. In truth I hate that such bigotry still exists in the Six Dutchies (...) I wished to let my Witted folk know that my justice was available to them."

LIKE.

Chapter 5: Finale

Kurt’s bouncing around his bedroom trying to pull on his pants. Dammit, his stupid alarm clock was on silent and now he’s so, so, late. Elliott’s going to kill him.

Of course, today’s the day, he’d sleep too late. When he steps out of the bedroom, Kurt finds the loft empty. Worst roommates ever. Neither of the girls thought to wake him before leaving tonight? He knew he shouldn’t have taken that late afternoon nap.

It’s the quickest he’s ever gotten ready. Hopefully, the stage lights will make him look better than he feels.

After a night of tossing and turning, the good kind, Kurt had been yawning all afternoon. Rachel was the one to eventually tuck him into bed. He had hoped to wake up refreshed but instead, he was stressed and rushing out the door.

Kurt’s supposed to be at Dots and Other Circles. A bar they’ve played at before just never on a Friday night. It’ll be their largest crowd ever. The stage is to Kurt’s left when he walks in, everything looks set up and ready to go. He wonders if there’s a backstage where he’ll find his traitorous roommates or his own doom if Elliott’s with them.

He makes his way to the bar. If he’s going to be murdered in the next ten minutes, he might as well have one last drink. Kurt squeezes his way to the counter, every seat is taken, and orders a rum and coke. Like he’s in a movie or something, the two people he’s chosen to stand between are exactly the people he was avoiding: Santana and Elliott.

“Running a tad behind, aren’t we Hummel?” Santana teases.

“No thanks to you!” he says back.

“Give her a break, wasn’t even her idea,” Elliott says with a wave.

“Excuse me?”

“We told you the wrong time on purpose and I silenced your alarm,” Santana laughs, “someone owes me ten bucks!”

She walks off, presumably to collect her money.

“You bet on me too?” Kurt exclaims, slightly offended.

Elliott shrugs but he’s smiling too. Kurt’s got the worse friends ever.

“Would it have killed you to be ten minutes later, babe,” Blaine says from behind him, “Now I have to give Santana $10.”

He turns around to see his boyfriend, dressed perfectly in a red bowtie and a tight black polo that shows off his arms and forgets for a moment to be mad.

“I thought you had… never mind, that was a lie too.”

“Little fib,” Blaine corrects.

Still, Kurt pulls Blaine forward and kisses him.

They had been dating just over a month now. Kurt’s the happiest he’s been since getting that acceptance letter to NYADA. Finally, he has someone to show off at parties, to send flirty texts to between classes, and get teased about by his roommates. There’s still a thrill anytime he gets to introduce Blaine as his boyfriend. It’s a new title for them, official as of two weeks ago.

Blaine breaks the kiss first, “should I apologize or?”

“Just kiss me again.”

He thinks Elliott makes a gagging noise but Kurt can’t be sure.

Even after all the thanking Elliott had received over the last few weeks, he’s firmly on Santana’s side of things when it comes to their relationship—Kurt and Blaine are the grossest couple in existence, too in love and they’ve only been together for six weeks, makes them sick to their stomachs. All in the most loving way but if the honeymoon period isn’t over soon, Elliott and Santana have made a pack to get out of the city for a while.

“Alright, break it up,” Elliott says, “we go on in fifteen and still need to do vocal warmups.”

Blaine takes Elliott’s seat at the bar and offers to finish Kurt’s drink, which hasn’t been touched.

“Break a leg,” he says, as Elliott leads Kurt away.

It’s the first time Blaine will be seeing their band perform. They’ve all been battling hectic schedules and couldn’t pin down a weekend to book a gig. The girls are in the backstage area. Rachel doing warmups and Santana taking a shot of some clear liquid.

“Hello Kurt, how was your nap?” Rachel sings.

He rolls his eyes when she bursts into laughter. Worst friends ever.

Ignoring Rachel altogether, Kurt asks, “what are we starting with tonight?”

There’s nothing quite like the rush right before going out onto the stage. The four of them circle up, their pre-show ritual, arms around each other’s shoulders and heads barely touching.

“Never let anyone dull your sparkle,” Elliott whispers.

Santana hits his shoulder, “you may sparkle but please shut up.”

Rachel covers her laughter with a cough before saying their mantra.

“You’re a star, you own the stage, sing your heart out.”

Once they’re on stage, Kurt scans the crowd for his boyfriend. He’s no longer at the bar but it doesn’t take long to spot his curls. In the center of the crowd, currently pushing his way between tables to get a spot directly in front of Kurt.

Elliott’s introduction faded. All Kurt saw was Blaine’s lips forming the words “hi.”

Elliott starts playing his guitar. They’re starting the set off a little slow with an acoustic cover of “Teenage Dirtbag.”

Santana steps up to her microphone and starts to sing, “Her name is Noelle, she’s walking over to me…”

Rule one of stage presence is making everyone in the audience feel like you’re singing just to them. Santana does this extremely well. Surveying the crowd, winking at cute girls, and smiling at the men who don’t stand a chance. But when Kurt steps up to the microphone and begins to sing, there’s only one pair of eyes he finds. He gets lost in those hazel eyes, happily so. He’d be a lucky man to get lost in them forever.

Six weeks.

Just six weeks of being with Blaine and Kurt’s already completely smitten. He’s used to the feeling Blaine gives him. The pulling of the heartstrings normally comes with a new crush but it’s constant. His dreams are consumed by Blaine. Instead of having to wake up to a harsh reality, Kurt gets to read a ‘good morning beautiful’ text because he’s no longer pinning alone. Blaine is pinning too. Their pinning for each other, for every moment not spent in one another’s company, for every little note they type out, for every dream they can make reality, for every kiss they replay in their minds.

Kurt’s never been so anxious to get off a stage in his life. He wants to stop singing right this second and jump off the stage into Blaine’s arms and kiss the life out of him. In front of all these people, a crowded New York bar on a Friday night. Kurt never imagined himself as a fan of PDA but for Blaine, he’d do all of it and more.

He still soaks up the applause after they finish, patiently waits as Rachel thanks the crowd once more and yells their names to the crowd, and finally takes a bow with his bandmates before running down the three steps off the stage and directly into the crowd. Blaine must be doing the same because it takes less than 30 seconds before they’re wrapped around one another.

Blaine hugging him so tight and whispers how hot it was to see his boyfriend’s performance. Now he knows how Kurt felt seeing him in a musical. Nothing hotter than a man who can make the stage his own.