fic: come back and find me
Title:Come Back and Find Me
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Rachel & Kurt friendship
Rating: pg
Word Count: 3k
Summary: They’re never friends. They’re more alike than either of them will ever admit, but they never really manage to be friends.
Spoilers: none, this is mostly future fic
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
Notes: For a glee_rare_pairs Rachel/Kurt prompt. I wrote this long before we actually got a glimpse of Rachel and Kurt hanging out together, so it's a little jossed at this point.
They’re never friends. They’re more alike than either of them will ever admit, but they never really manage to be friends. There’s a moment there, when their rivalry ebbs, and she thinks they might be able to get along, but it’s transient, gone before she can even enjoy it.
She doesn’t consider it a loss though. Relationships are fun, but friendships in her line of work seem more like obstacles than anything else. Occasionally they serve a purpose, but more often than not, they just set people up for heartbreak.
They both end up in New York City, just like they’d always planed, but as soon as they get there they pick different sides of the island of Manhattan and stay there - Rachel on one corner and Kurt on the other.
That’s how it starts out at least. Former enemies, picking their territory and ignoring each other from afar. High school is over, but some rivalries are harder to forget than others. This particular one with Kurt? Rachel doesn’t think that will ever die, despite wishing it would.
--
Two years pass before they ever cross paths. It’s surprising considering they’re in the same business and acting can be a small, incestuous circle. Rachel half expects to see Kurt at a random audition, trying out for the same part, but it never happens. She’s almost disappointed, but she’s mostly relieved. As much as she hates to admit it, Kurt’s a threat - one she’d rather not deal with anymore.
Not a threat for parts necessarily, but for the spotlight she so adores. A spotlight she knows that Kurt adores just as equally.
The two years that go by are filled with heartbreak and disappointing loss. She doesn’t catch the break she thought she would, and she finds that instead of paving the way for her dreams, New York City chips away at her composure with every part she doesn’t get. Her gold star feels tarnished and broken inside her heart.
New York is not exactly what she’d thought it’d be.
--
It’s at a trendy bar on her side of Manhattan that she sees Kurt for the first time in two years. She’s there with a few friends, nursing an apple martini as she stares listlessly at the wall. Her friend, Mark, another aspiring star, is droning on about some new juicy piece of gossip that she’s entirely uninterested in. She stirs her cherry in her drink and lets her eyes wander, wondering how long she has to sit here before she can politely excuse herself.
Moments later, she sees him at the bar, his elbow leaned up against the old wood, and a taller guy in front of him, gesturing animatedly as he tells a story. Rachel almost doesn’t recognize Kurt, though he seems to dress the same way as he did in high school; his hair is perfectly coiffed, and an expression of disinterested disdain is still cemented on his face. She catches herself staring at him, unable to look away, before his eyes turn her way. Their gazes lock, surprise flickering over his face on the heels of recognition.
The gap between them feels large and looming, and it becomes clear after seconds of staring that neither of them are willing to be the first to cross it. Her gut churns a little because she’s not really sure if two years of absence has made them something like friends, and she’s torn between wanting desperately to talk to someone familiar and the urge to run, save her pride, unwilling to face someone from her past with all her failures sitting on her shoulders.
It’s stupid, because it’s not like she’s seen Kurt’s name in flashing lights around town. Regardless, disappointment presses against her chest, taking the breath out of her for a moment.
She looks away for a second, a flinch and a blink more than anything else, and takes a deep breath, her mind warring over what to do. But when she looks back, finally convinced she can maybe talk to him, he’s gone.
Mark leans close to her, his lips next to her ear to hide his words from their friends. “You okay?”
She swallows, eyes darting around the bar as she nods a little. “Yeah, just thought I saw someone.”
--
It’s like that one moment at the bar opens a floodgate. After she sees him once, she can’t seem to stop seeing him. The following week she catches him at all kinds of random places.
First, it’s a coffee shop Rachel’s never been to before. Her friend, Julie drags her there because it just opened and she likes the cute new barista. It’s a stupid reason, according to Rachel, but Julie insists, and Rachel doesn’t have a more legitimate reason to refuse.
The minute she walks in, she sees him. He’s nursing a coffee at a far table, a newspaper open in front of him. Her body gets jerked towards him quickly, but not so fast that she can’t catch it.
“You know that guy or something?” Julie asks, noticing where Rachel’s eyes have gone.
“We went to high school together,” Rachel answers, tearing her gaze away and stepping up to the counter.
“You should go talk to him,” Julie suggests, studying the pastries available.
Eying the menu, Rachel shakes her head and laughs a little. It comes out sounding sadder than she means it to. “I doubt he remembers me, much less wants to talk to me.” It’s a lie, but Rachel doesn’t feel nearly ready to talk to Kurt Hummel of all people.
They get their coffee and leave. Rachel glances once more at Kurt before they exit, but the chair he was occupying is empty.
--
She goes to an audition the next day, reads and sings for a part in a new off-broadway musical, but she can tell halfway through that she’s not going to get it. She’s becoming an expert at noticing when she’s being written off.
She lights up a cigarette the minute she gets outside, huddling against a brick wall to keep out of the wind. It’s a nasty, despicable New York habit that she’s picked up since being here. Nicotine burns her throat and she can almost hear the voice of her fifteen year old self, screaming at her in the back of her head.
Seconds later the door she just walked out of bangs open. She nearly laughs when Kurt steps out, buttoning his coat up, and twisting his scarf around his neck, but the sound gets caught in her throat when she gets a good look at him. The look of rejection is all over his face. She nearly gasps at how much it feels like looking in a mirror.
Kurt turns, jerking back a little as he sees her, eyes flicking down to the lit cigarette in her hand. She can see him swallow, straightening his back a little.
“Those are terrible for your voice,” he tells her, raising an eyebrow at her cigarette.
He doesn’t say anything else before turning on his heel, and striding away.
Rachel blows out a stream of smoke into the chill air, before pressing the white stick into the brick wall behind her, and letting it fall to the ground.
She throws the rest of her pack in the next trash can she passes.
--
A few days later, it’s a glimpse of him so fast that Rachel’s not even certain it happened. It’s a perfectly normal day. Rachel’s riding the subway into work and while normally she spends the ride staring at the boring floor of her train car and listening to her iPod, for some reason, on this day, she watches the train fly through the tunnels out the window in front of her. It’s not particularly interesting, but every time they pull past a platform the people-watching isn’t terrible.
It’s the fifth station they pass after she gets on that she sees him on the platform. The train slows down just enough for her to recognize him. It’s just a few seconds, but she doesn’t think she’d ever mistake him.
Their eyes connect briefly. Even through the dirtied glass of the subway car, and even though it’s just in passing, she sees the recognition flash across Kurt’s face as his eyes widen just enough.
Then, the moment is over as the train pulls out of the station and Kurt goes out of sight.
Rachel lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.
--
Her friend Mark hosts a party on Friday and Rachel goes because she has to. The minute she walks in the door, Julie hands her a glass of wine and leads her to the couch where, just like always, they’ll spend the entire night.
Mark’s studio apartment gets pretty full about an hour after Rachel arrives. She’s still on the couch next to Julie, her third glass of wine in her hand as she listens to her friend drone on about whatever train wreck of a relationship is featured in Julie’s life this month.
Sipping at her wine, Rachel looks around dully, observing all the partygoers with a bored eye. Julie’s voice is like white noise in her ear, wrapping her head in wool. She’s pretty sure that if she were to lay her head on the back of the couch, she’d fall asleep.
Then, like the world starts to turn from black and white to color, she sees Kurt walk in, bright red scarf wrapped around his neck.
She’s staring again. She knows she is only because Julie whips her head around to follow Rachel’s line of sight, brow furrowing. “Hey, isn’t that the guy from the coffee shop?”
“Kurt Hummel,” Rachel clarifies, watching him weave in and out of people.
“He’s cute,” Julie muses.
“He’s gay,” Rachel says.
Julie laughs. “And that has what to do with his being cute exactly?”
Shaking her head at herself, because she’s not entirely sure why she felt it was pertinent information either, Rachel chuckles. “You’re right.”
It’s then that Kurt passes by the couch, his head turning just slightly enough as he goes to catch Rachel’s eye. She doesn’t miss the way he nearly stumbles when he sees her.
Smiling, she puts her hand up a little in greeting and sees Kurt do the same, the whole scene reminding her of a time long ago, in a place much different than this.
“Well, I think they need me in the kitchen,” Julie announces, standing.
Kurt watches her leave, smiling politely at her as she passes. Rachel stands up, and takes a step towards Kurt, the wine making her a little braver than she’d normally be.
“We keep running into each other,” she says lightly, grinning at him. “Two years with nothing, and now I can’t stop running into you.”
“I know,” Kurt says, nodding, but looking around uncomfortably. “It’s good to see you,” he adds, the smile that accompanies it looking forced.
Rachel is sick of this. She’s sick of feeling like strangers with someone she spent some of the most important years of her life with. She’s sick of looking at Kurt and seeing herself, but feeling so far away.
She downs the rest of her wine, and sets the empty glass on the table. “Come on,” she says, grabbing his hand, and almost laughing at the way his eyebrows go straight up on his forehead. “Let’s get out of here.”
Kurt lets her tug him all the way out of Mark’s apartment, and back out into the harsh New York air.
--
Her plan kind of begins and ends with “get out of the party with Kurt”, so she’s at a loss once they hit the sidewalk. Thankfully, she’s had considerable practice at improv.
There’s a bar not far from Mark’s apartment, so she pulls him that direction, shivering a little as the wind whips through her hair and wishing she’d remembered to grab her jacket.
“Rachel, what are you doing?” Kurt finally asks.
Taking a deep breath, Rachel turns at him, crossing her fingers that this whole thing wasn’t a mistake. “Clearly, it’s fate that keeps bringing us together. The universe wants us to catch up,” she explains.” Desperately wants us to. So that’s what we’re doing.”
“Maybe we should get back to the party,” he says, pulling against her tug and breaking her hold. They stop on the middle of the sidewalk and stare at each other.
Rachel nods a little, glancing down at her feet before back up at Kurt. “Just one drink, Kurt. For old time’s sake.”
Kurt doesn’t look entirely swayed, so she tries again.
“It’s been so long,” Rachel pleads. “It’s a shame to be in the same city for so long and not at least have one drink.”
Pursing his lips, and looking over his shoulder briefly, Kurt finally concedes. “One drink,” he agrees. “One.”
“Excellent,” Rachel says with a smile and a sharp nod.
They walk the rest of the way to the bar in silence.
--
One drink turns into two, which turns into three, and by their fourth cocktail, Kurt’s tense expression has finally faded. In fact, he’s even smiling, a hint of laughter in the way he breathes in and out.
“Why have we never done this before?” Rachel asks, pushing him a little in the shoulder.
Kurt shrugs, twirling his straw around in his drink. “I don’t know.”
“So, what ave you been up to since high school?”
Smile fading, and shoulders tensing a little bit again, Kurt can’t seem to meet her eyes. “Nothing interesting.”
“Still singing?”
Kurt laughs. “Yeah. Nothing big though.”
It’s the wine, Rachel’s sure, but she’s suddenly sick of worrying about what Kurt things, worrying about how it looks that she hasn’t achieved any of her dreams. “I thought it would be easier,” she confesses.
His head shoots up and their eyes lock, his expression suddenly interested. “What would be easier?”
“This,” she explains, gesturing around. “New York City, Broadway. I thought it’d be easier.”
Kurt hums and nods a little. “It’s not easy.”
“It’s not,” Rachel agrees, leaning forward. “I thought I’d show up and they’d love me, you know?”
“Yeah,” Kurt breathes. “Me too.”
Brown hair tumbles forward as she looks down, shaking her head. “More auditions than I can count and I’m nothing but a glorified choral singer.”
When she looks back up, Kurt has a sad smile on his face, his jaw clenched for a moment before he opens his mouth. “I think I’ve been rejected every single way in the book.”
Rachel smiles a little. “Too short,” she says.
“Too gay,” Kurt counters.
“Too straight,” Rachel laughs.
“Not enough passion.”
“Too much intensity.”
“Not the part for you,” Kurt says, mirth beginning to cover his face.
“Oooh,” Rachel says, chuckling. “That’s my favorite.”
Kurt shakes his head and puts his hand up, palm forward. “No, no,” he says. “The best is not what we’re looking for right now.”
Rachel laughs. “You’re right. That’s a good one.”
Kurt leans back a little in the booth, loosening the lavender tie around his neck and letting out a low breath. “Singing used to be so much fun,” he says.
“Yeah,” Rachel agrees. “I never thought I’d actually miss high school.”
They sit in silence for a little while, and Rachel feels her chest loosen a little as she looks across the table at Kurt. “Why weren’t we ever friends?”
Kurt laughs. “You can’t exactly be friends when you’re competing for the same solos.” Kurt raises an eyebrow. “Or the same guys,” he adds.
“I guess,” Rachel says softly, chuckling softly at the memories. “It’s too bad though.”
“Why?” Kurt’s brow furrows.
“It would have been nice to know you two years ago,” Rachel confesses, shrugging. “Maybe it would have been easier, you know?” She smiles a little, and watches the words break over Kurt’s face, his features softening slightly.
He glances around the bar for a moment, before his eyes seem to land on what he’s looking for. He points across the floor to a small stage on the far wall. “Karaoke,” he says, looking back at her with a little smirk.
She gasps a little in surprise, turning to observe the stage. “No,” she says.
“Yes,” Kurt replies, sliding out of his booth to stand. He extends his hand towards her. “It’s time we sang together again.”
Rachel shakes her head, no longer itching to perform on stage like she used to. Now it just feels cheap, and disappointing. “No,” she repeats.
Kurt leans forward and looks her straight in the eye. “Sing with me,” he orders. “It might do us both some good.”
Conceding, Rachel lets out a low breath and slides her palm against Kurt’s. She let’s him pull her out of the booth and straightens her skirt on the way towards the stage, smiling tentatively at the other patrons as they start to notice her.
Kurt walks over to the small computer on the side of the stage and leans over it, pressing various buttons to choose their song. The stage, though small and unassuming, seems huge and overwhelming. Her heart starts to beat fast against her ribs. Rachel hates the now-familiar feeling of anxiety.
Kurt walks back over and hands her a microphone, smiling. “Just like high school,” he whispers. “Except, you know, we’re in a bar.”
Rachel laughs, her stomach untwisting a little bit. Familiar notes start to fill the bar and Rachel laughs even harder as Kurt grins at her.
For the second time in their life, what feels like eons after the first, the two of them sing a duet she hadn’t heard since high school. She feels more in sync with Kurt Hummel than she has with anyone in ages.
Her anxiety practically bursts out of her the more they sing, her body remembering what it was like to perform just because she liked to. To sing just because she wanted to sing.
When they finish, the bar applauds and Rachel soaks the sound in like an old friend, feels it beat in her gut and against her heart. Kurt’s still smiling, and Rachel can’t help but do the same, feeling expression instead of forcing it. It’s the first time in a long time she hasn’t had to.
One song turns into two, and two turns into three, and it’s like she can’t stop. She thinks she could stand on this stage with Kurt for hours and not get tired of the feeling.
“My turn,” Rachel says, walking over to the computer. “I’ve got just the song.”
The beginning notes of Don’t Stop Believing flood over them, reminding her, with fond nostalgia, of a time long ago. Kurt throws her head back and laughs loudly, shaking her head at her. “Really?”
She smirks, walking back over to him. “Really.” She nods. “I think it’s only appropriate.”
Kurt observes her, smiling softly. “You know what, Rachel Berry? I think you’re right.”
Kurt slings his arm around her shoulder, face flushed and breathing hard as he laughs a little in her ear. She turns towards him, smiling and for the first time in two years, New York doesn’t feel like such a disappointment.
Later, when their throats start to ache from singing, and Rachel’s not sure her legs can support her any longer, they stumble off stage and back to their booth, flagging their waitress for a round of drinks.
They press into the same side of their booth, and Kurt grins widely at her, his happiness nearly palpable. Suddenly, without thinking about it, she lunges forward, pressing the lips together abruptly.
Kurt starts in surprise, but he doesn’t move for a moment, just stills against Rachel’s mouth.
She pulls away, eyes wide, and would probably laugh at the expression on Kurt’s face if she wasn’t sure the same exact one was on hers.
“You’re gay,” Rachel deadpans.
Kurt nods rapidly. “Super gay.”
“I’m drunk,” Rachel adds, nodding solemnly.
“Super drunk,” Kurt agrees, finally laughing a little. “What the hell was that?”
Rachel laughs with him, putting her hand over her eyes. “I have no idea,” she says. “I seriously, have no idea.”
“It’s okay,” Kurt says around laughter, putting his hand on her shoulder. “You’re actually not the first girl I’ve kissed.”
Groaning a little, but smiling at him, she lifts her hand away and shakes her head. “Sadly, you’re the not the first gay man I’ve ever kissed.”
Kurt laughs even harder, his whole body seeming to react with the sound. “Look at us,” he says.
“I’m such a mess.”
Pressing his back into the wood behind him, Kurt slides down a little in his seat, and elbows her lightly in the arm. “Hey, if ti makes you feel any better, we can be messes together.”
Rachel smiles, and bumps her shoulder against Kurt’s. “Friends?”
Nodding, serious, but still grinning, he agrees. “Friends.”
“To us,” Rachel says, picking up her glass, and moving it in the air towards Kurt.
“To us,” Kurt parrots, clinking his drink against hers. “And to how completely fabulous we both are.”
Laughing deeply, Rachel nods. “Absolutely.”
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Rachel & Kurt friendship
Rating: pg
Word Count: 3k
Summary: They’re never friends. They’re more alike than either of them will ever admit, but they never really manage to be friends.
Spoilers: none, this is mostly future fic
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
Notes: For a glee_rare_pairs Rachel/Kurt prompt. I wrote this long before we actually got a glimpse of Rachel and Kurt hanging out together, so it's a little jossed at this point.
They’re never friends. They’re more alike than either of them will ever admit, but they never really manage to be friends. There’s a moment there, when their rivalry ebbs, and she thinks they might be able to get along, but it’s transient, gone before she can even enjoy it.
She doesn’t consider it a loss though. Relationships are fun, but friendships in her line of work seem more like obstacles than anything else. Occasionally they serve a purpose, but more often than not, they just set people up for heartbreak.
They both end up in New York City, just like they’d always planed, but as soon as they get there they pick different sides of the island of Manhattan and stay there - Rachel on one corner and Kurt on the other.
That’s how it starts out at least. Former enemies, picking their territory and ignoring each other from afar. High school is over, but some rivalries are harder to forget than others. This particular one with Kurt? Rachel doesn’t think that will ever die, despite wishing it would.
--
Two years pass before they ever cross paths. It’s surprising considering they’re in the same business and acting can be a small, incestuous circle. Rachel half expects to see Kurt at a random audition, trying out for the same part, but it never happens. She’s almost disappointed, but she’s mostly relieved. As much as she hates to admit it, Kurt’s a threat - one she’d rather not deal with anymore.
Not a threat for parts necessarily, but for the spotlight she so adores. A spotlight she knows that Kurt adores just as equally.
The two years that go by are filled with heartbreak and disappointing loss. She doesn’t catch the break she thought she would, and she finds that instead of paving the way for her dreams, New York City chips away at her composure with every part she doesn’t get. Her gold star feels tarnished and broken inside her heart.
New York is not exactly what she’d thought it’d be.
--
It’s at a trendy bar on her side of Manhattan that she sees Kurt for the first time in two years. She’s there with a few friends, nursing an apple martini as she stares listlessly at the wall. Her friend, Mark, another aspiring star, is droning on about some new juicy piece of gossip that she’s entirely uninterested in. She stirs her cherry in her drink and lets her eyes wander, wondering how long she has to sit here before she can politely excuse herself.
Moments later, she sees him at the bar, his elbow leaned up against the old wood, and a taller guy in front of him, gesturing animatedly as he tells a story. Rachel almost doesn’t recognize Kurt, though he seems to dress the same way as he did in high school; his hair is perfectly coiffed, and an expression of disinterested disdain is still cemented on his face. She catches herself staring at him, unable to look away, before his eyes turn her way. Their gazes lock, surprise flickering over his face on the heels of recognition.
The gap between them feels large and looming, and it becomes clear after seconds of staring that neither of them are willing to be the first to cross it. Her gut churns a little because she’s not really sure if two years of absence has made them something like friends, and she’s torn between wanting desperately to talk to someone familiar and the urge to run, save her pride, unwilling to face someone from her past with all her failures sitting on her shoulders.
It’s stupid, because it’s not like she’s seen Kurt’s name in flashing lights around town. Regardless, disappointment presses against her chest, taking the breath out of her for a moment.
She looks away for a second, a flinch and a blink more than anything else, and takes a deep breath, her mind warring over what to do. But when she looks back, finally convinced she can maybe talk to him, he’s gone.
Mark leans close to her, his lips next to her ear to hide his words from their friends. “You okay?”
She swallows, eyes darting around the bar as she nods a little. “Yeah, just thought I saw someone.”
--
It’s like that one moment at the bar opens a floodgate. After she sees him once, she can’t seem to stop seeing him. The following week she catches him at all kinds of random places.
First, it’s a coffee shop Rachel’s never been to before. Her friend, Julie drags her there because it just opened and she likes the cute new barista. It’s a stupid reason, according to Rachel, but Julie insists, and Rachel doesn’t have a more legitimate reason to refuse.
The minute she walks in, she sees him. He’s nursing a coffee at a far table, a newspaper open in front of him. Her body gets jerked towards him quickly, but not so fast that she can’t catch it.
“You know that guy or something?” Julie asks, noticing where Rachel’s eyes have gone.
“We went to high school together,” Rachel answers, tearing her gaze away and stepping up to the counter.
“You should go talk to him,” Julie suggests, studying the pastries available.
Eying the menu, Rachel shakes her head and laughs a little. It comes out sounding sadder than she means it to. “I doubt he remembers me, much less wants to talk to me.” It’s a lie, but Rachel doesn’t feel nearly ready to talk to Kurt Hummel of all people.
They get their coffee and leave. Rachel glances once more at Kurt before they exit, but the chair he was occupying is empty.
--
She goes to an audition the next day, reads and sings for a part in a new off-broadway musical, but she can tell halfway through that she’s not going to get it. She’s becoming an expert at noticing when she’s being written off.
She lights up a cigarette the minute she gets outside, huddling against a brick wall to keep out of the wind. It’s a nasty, despicable New York habit that she’s picked up since being here. Nicotine burns her throat and she can almost hear the voice of her fifteen year old self, screaming at her in the back of her head.
Seconds later the door she just walked out of bangs open. She nearly laughs when Kurt steps out, buttoning his coat up, and twisting his scarf around his neck, but the sound gets caught in her throat when she gets a good look at him. The look of rejection is all over his face. She nearly gasps at how much it feels like looking in a mirror.
Kurt turns, jerking back a little as he sees her, eyes flicking down to the lit cigarette in her hand. She can see him swallow, straightening his back a little.
“Those are terrible for your voice,” he tells her, raising an eyebrow at her cigarette.
He doesn’t say anything else before turning on his heel, and striding away.
Rachel blows out a stream of smoke into the chill air, before pressing the white stick into the brick wall behind her, and letting it fall to the ground.
She throws the rest of her pack in the next trash can she passes.
--
A few days later, it’s a glimpse of him so fast that Rachel’s not even certain it happened. It’s a perfectly normal day. Rachel’s riding the subway into work and while normally she spends the ride staring at the boring floor of her train car and listening to her iPod, for some reason, on this day, she watches the train fly through the tunnels out the window in front of her. It’s not particularly interesting, but every time they pull past a platform the people-watching isn’t terrible.
It’s the fifth station they pass after she gets on that she sees him on the platform. The train slows down just enough for her to recognize him. It’s just a few seconds, but she doesn’t think she’d ever mistake him.
Their eyes connect briefly. Even through the dirtied glass of the subway car, and even though it’s just in passing, she sees the recognition flash across Kurt’s face as his eyes widen just enough.
Then, the moment is over as the train pulls out of the station and Kurt goes out of sight.
Rachel lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.
--
Her friend Mark hosts a party on Friday and Rachel goes because she has to. The minute she walks in the door, Julie hands her a glass of wine and leads her to the couch where, just like always, they’ll spend the entire night.
Mark’s studio apartment gets pretty full about an hour after Rachel arrives. She’s still on the couch next to Julie, her third glass of wine in her hand as she listens to her friend drone on about whatever train wreck of a relationship is featured in Julie’s life this month.
Sipping at her wine, Rachel looks around dully, observing all the partygoers with a bored eye. Julie’s voice is like white noise in her ear, wrapping her head in wool. She’s pretty sure that if she were to lay her head on the back of the couch, she’d fall asleep.
Then, like the world starts to turn from black and white to color, she sees Kurt walk in, bright red scarf wrapped around his neck.
She’s staring again. She knows she is only because Julie whips her head around to follow Rachel’s line of sight, brow furrowing. “Hey, isn’t that the guy from the coffee shop?”
“Kurt Hummel,” Rachel clarifies, watching him weave in and out of people.
“He’s cute,” Julie muses.
“He’s gay,” Rachel says.
Julie laughs. “And that has what to do with his being cute exactly?”
Shaking her head at herself, because she’s not entirely sure why she felt it was pertinent information either, Rachel chuckles. “You’re right.”
It’s then that Kurt passes by the couch, his head turning just slightly enough as he goes to catch Rachel’s eye. She doesn’t miss the way he nearly stumbles when he sees her.
Smiling, she puts her hand up a little in greeting and sees Kurt do the same, the whole scene reminding her of a time long ago, in a place much different than this.
“Well, I think they need me in the kitchen,” Julie announces, standing.
Kurt watches her leave, smiling politely at her as she passes. Rachel stands up, and takes a step towards Kurt, the wine making her a little braver than she’d normally be.
“We keep running into each other,” she says lightly, grinning at him. “Two years with nothing, and now I can’t stop running into you.”
“I know,” Kurt says, nodding, but looking around uncomfortably. “It’s good to see you,” he adds, the smile that accompanies it looking forced.
Rachel is sick of this. She’s sick of feeling like strangers with someone she spent some of the most important years of her life with. She’s sick of looking at Kurt and seeing herself, but feeling so far away.
She downs the rest of her wine, and sets the empty glass on the table. “Come on,” she says, grabbing his hand, and almost laughing at the way his eyebrows go straight up on his forehead. “Let’s get out of here.”
Kurt lets her tug him all the way out of Mark’s apartment, and back out into the harsh New York air.
--
Her plan kind of begins and ends with “get out of the party with Kurt”, so she’s at a loss once they hit the sidewalk. Thankfully, she’s had considerable practice at improv.
There’s a bar not far from Mark’s apartment, so she pulls him that direction, shivering a little as the wind whips through her hair and wishing she’d remembered to grab her jacket.
“Rachel, what are you doing?” Kurt finally asks.
Taking a deep breath, Rachel turns at him, crossing her fingers that this whole thing wasn’t a mistake. “Clearly, it’s fate that keeps bringing us together. The universe wants us to catch up,” she explains.” Desperately wants us to. So that’s what we’re doing.”
“Maybe we should get back to the party,” he says, pulling against her tug and breaking her hold. They stop on the middle of the sidewalk and stare at each other.
Rachel nods a little, glancing down at her feet before back up at Kurt. “Just one drink, Kurt. For old time’s sake.”
Kurt doesn’t look entirely swayed, so she tries again.
“It’s been so long,” Rachel pleads. “It’s a shame to be in the same city for so long and not at least have one drink.”
Pursing his lips, and looking over his shoulder briefly, Kurt finally concedes. “One drink,” he agrees. “One.”
“Excellent,” Rachel says with a smile and a sharp nod.
They walk the rest of the way to the bar in silence.
--
One drink turns into two, which turns into three, and by their fourth cocktail, Kurt’s tense expression has finally faded. In fact, he’s even smiling, a hint of laughter in the way he breathes in and out.
“Why have we never done this before?” Rachel asks, pushing him a little in the shoulder.
Kurt shrugs, twirling his straw around in his drink. “I don’t know.”
“So, what ave you been up to since high school?”
Smile fading, and shoulders tensing a little bit again, Kurt can’t seem to meet her eyes. “Nothing interesting.”
“Still singing?”
Kurt laughs. “Yeah. Nothing big though.”
It’s the wine, Rachel’s sure, but she’s suddenly sick of worrying about what Kurt things, worrying about how it looks that she hasn’t achieved any of her dreams. “I thought it would be easier,” she confesses.
His head shoots up and their eyes lock, his expression suddenly interested. “What would be easier?”
“This,” she explains, gesturing around. “New York City, Broadway. I thought it’d be easier.”
Kurt hums and nods a little. “It’s not easy.”
“It’s not,” Rachel agrees, leaning forward. “I thought I’d show up and they’d love me, you know?”
“Yeah,” Kurt breathes. “Me too.”
Brown hair tumbles forward as she looks down, shaking her head. “More auditions than I can count and I’m nothing but a glorified choral singer.”
When she looks back up, Kurt has a sad smile on his face, his jaw clenched for a moment before he opens his mouth. “I think I’ve been rejected every single way in the book.”
Rachel smiles a little. “Too short,” she says.
“Too gay,” Kurt counters.
“Too straight,” Rachel laughs.
“Not enough passion.”
“Too much intensity.”
“Not the part for you,” Kurt says, mirth beginning to cover his face.
“Oooh,” Rachel says, chuckling. “That’s my favorite.”
Kurt shakes his head and puts his hand up, palm forward. “No, no,” he says. “The best is not what we’re looking for right now.”
Rachel laughs. “You’re right. That’s a good one.”
Kurt leans back a little in the booth, loosening the lavender tie around his neck and letting out a low breath. “Singing used to be so much fun,” he says.
“Yeah,” Rachel agrees. “I never thought I’d actually miss high school.”
They sit in silence for a little while, and Rachel feels her chest loosen a little as she looks across the table at Kurt. “Why weren’t we ever friends?”
Kurt laughs. “You can’t exactly be friends when you’re competing for the same solos.” Kurt raises an eyebrow. “Or the same guys,” he adds.
“I guess,” Rachel says softly, chuckling softly at the memories. “It’s too bad though.”
“Why?” Kurt’s brow furrows.
“It would have been nice to know you two years ago,” Rachel confesses, shrugging. “Maybe it would have been easier, you know?” She smiles a little, and watches the words break over Kurt’s face, his features softening slightly.
He glances around the bar for a moment, before his eyes seem to land on what he’s looking for. He points across the floor to a small stage on the far wall. “Karaoke,” he says, looking back at her with a little smirk.
She gasps a little in surprise, turning to observe the stage. “No,” she says.
“Yes,” Kurt replies, sliding out of his booth to stand. He extends his hand towards her. “It’s time we sang together again.”
Rachel shakes her head, no longer itching to perform on stage like she used to. Now it just feels cheap, and disappointing. “No,” she repeats.
Kurt leans forward and looks her straight in the eye. “Sing with me,” he orders. “It might do us both some good.”
Conceding, Rachel lets out a low breath and slides her palm against Kurt’s. She let’s him pull her out of the booth and straightens her skirt on the way towards the stage, smiling tentatively at the other patrons as they start to notice her.
Kurt walks over to the small computer on the side of the stage and leans over it, pressing various buttons to choose their song. The stage, though small and unassuming, seems huge and overwhelming. Her heart starts to beat fast against her ribs. Rachel hates the now-familiar feeling of anxiety.
Kurt walks back over and hands her a microphone, smiling. “Just like high school,” he whispers. “Except, you know, we’re in a bar.”
Rachel laughs, her stomach untwisting a little bit. Familiar notes start to fill the bar and Rachel laughs even harder as Kurt grins at her.
For the second time in their life, what feels like eons after the first, the two of them sing a duet she hadn’t heard since high school. She feels more in sync with Kurt Hummel than she has with anyone in ages.
Her anxiety practically bursts out of her the more they sing, her body remembering what it was like to perform just because she liked to. To sing just because she wanted to sing.
When they finish, the bar applauds and Rachel soaks the sound in like an old friend, feels it beat in her gut and against her heart. Kurt’s still smiling, and Rachel can’t help but do the same, feeling expression instead of forcing it. It’s the first time in a long time she hasn’t had to.
One song turns into two, and two turns into three, and it’s like she can’t stop. She thinks she could stand on this stage with Kurt for hours and not get tired of the feeling.
“My turn,” Rachel says, walking over to the computer. “I’ve got just the song.”
The beginning notes of Don’t Stop Believing flood over them, reminding her, with fond nostalgia, of a time long ago. Kurt throws her head back and laughs loudly, shaking her head at her. “Really?”
She smirks, walking back over to him. “Really.” She nods. “I think it’s only appropriate.”
Kurt observes her, smiling softly. “You know what, Rachel Berry? I think you’re right.”
Kurt slings his arm around her shoulder, face flushed and breathing hard as he laughs a little in her ear. She turns towards him, smiling and for the first time in two years, New York doesn’t feel like such a disappointment.
Later, when their throats start to ache from singing, and Rachel’s not sure her legs can support her any longer, they stumble off stage and back to their booth, flagging their waitress for a round of drinks.
They press into the same side of their booth, and Kurt grins widely at her, his happiness nearly palpable. Suddenly, without thinking about it, she lunges forward, pressing the lips together abruptly.
Kurt starts in surprise, but he doesn’t move for a moment, just stills against Rachel’s mouth.
She pulls away, eyes wide, and would probably laugh at the expression on Kurt’s face if she wasn’t sure the same exact one was on hers.
“You’re gay,” Rachel deadpans.
Kurt nods rapidly. “Super gay.”
“I’m drunk,” Rachel adds, nodding solemnly.
“Super drunk,” Kurt agrees, finally laughing a little. “What the hell was that?”
Rachel laughs with him, putting her hand over her eyes. “I have no idea,” she says. “I seriously, have no idea.”
“It’s okay,” Kurt says around laughter, putting his hand on her shoulder. “You’re actually not the first girl I’ve kissed.”
Groaning a little, but smiling at him, she lifts her hand away and shakes her head. “Sadly, you’re the not the first gay man I’ve ever kissed.”
Kurt laughs even harder, his whole body seeming to react with the sound. “Look at us,” he says.
“I’m such a mess.”
Pressing his back into the wood behind him, Kurt slides down a little in his seat, and elbows her lightly in the arm. “Hey, if ti makes you feel any better, we can be messes together.”
Rachel smiles, and bumps her shoulder against Kurt’s. “Friends?”
Nodding, serious, but still grinning, he agrees. “Friends.”
“To us,” Rachel says, picking up her glass, and moving it in the air towards Kurt.
“To us,” Kurt parrots, clinking his drink against hers. “And to how completely fabulous we both are.”
Laughing deeply, Rachel nods. “Absolutely.”