A/N: Oh! I'm so excited to be back! And what a better way to celebrate a return than with two postings? (Probably an update on all of my stuff... In time people, in time.) So, this one came to me after looking at a random picture of Kurt and Blaine sitting back to back on some swings, I'm sure this is not what the artist meant by the drawing, but this is where my muse took me, it pretty much wrote itself. Literally, I was done with it in just a few hours. I didn't post it originally because I didn't like the ending and wanted to come back to it so I could change it. Instead, I only added to the ending.

I hope you like it!

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters depicted in this story. This is a work of fan fiction.

Song: Words by Darren Criss

Enjoy!

It was just about the stupidest thing he had even seen.

...and that was saying something because he was still friends with Nick and Jeff. Left a part they were the normal, upper-class, college graduate, gentlemen that Dalton Academy had prided itself in building... but put them together and it was like Bonnie and Clyde without the murder and romance. At least for the most part, as both boys enjoyed leaving everyone in the dark about where exactly their relationship started and stopped.

Regardless, they were trouble. Sometimes is was simple coins glued to the floor or as huge as the igloo they built out of real snow inside the Senior Commons (which to this day they blame Thad for because he refused to allow them to "practice" without a chaperon).

So Blaine has seen his fair share of stupid over the years having gone to school with Niff.

Then again, it was Nick and Jeff, it was kind of expected of them... This though, probably took the cake.

Blaine tilted his head to the side, blinking a few more times before finally admitting to himself that he was not seeing things.

The swing set was off to the side of the main part of the play-ground, just far enough away that it could be considered secluded but with the rest of the park still visible. But what attracted his attention the most was not the seclusion, but the setup of the swings, because instead of the two planks (actual wood planks!) sitting side by side, there were placed parallel. As if the two occupants that would sit in them were to be back to back, leaving no room to swing.

But...

Blaine glanced around the park again, noting the distance the swing set was from children, parents, couples, dogs and their owners alike, the almost quiet background noise that their cheers, praises, and conversations provided.

It was soothing... and perfect... and could not be heard over his music.

Choosing to ignore the logistics of the swings, Blaine walked over to one of the swaying planks and took a seat, facing out towards the slightly wooded part of the park, the road just visible off to the right.

Blaine sighed, pulling his Ipod out of his pocket.

Today was not supposed to be about the literal or logical anyways-

He bobbed his head slightly to the Katy that was already streaming through his ear-buds, scrolling through his playlists down to his personal compositions.

—much less a swing set—

When he hit the bottom of the list, he clicked and started the song: Untitled 2.

—today was about his music and the words he was trying to find.

There was nothing but a slow drum beat at the start, accompanied by an acoustic guitar and piano, all played by him individually and laid over-top one another. He quickly replaced his Ipod back into his pocket and removed a small teal note book marked to the page he wanted by a pen. He did not have much to go with the beginnings of a song, but a bunch of random phrases cramped into margins and over-top thoroughly scratched out words. Nearly no semblance of order could be found between them.

Untitled 2 was supposed to be a type of love song; but up until this point, Blaine had a problem writing love songs... mainly because he had never been in love.

As sad as that would seem, twenty-three and a newly minted, double-major graduate, Ohio private school to Columbia University in New York, New York, on his third call-back for Mark Cohen in the Broadway Revival of Rent, dapper to almost a fault, out and proud since he was fourteen, Blaine Devon Warbler Anderson (now his legal name because Jeff thought he was entitled, as well as funny when he went off to law school) had never been in love.

He had had his crushes, his celebrity obsessions, his eyes straying to hot guys, even losing his virginity to a (huge mistake) drunken night back in his junior year of high school... but never love.

So it was hard for him to just make up words about a concept that he had no personal experience with—

Blaine noticed out of the corner of his eye that someone was walking towards him. So he looked up, meaning for it to just be a quick glance, as they were a good distance away and no way were they walking...

...straight towards him. Literally, they were walking his way.

He was young, about Blaine's own age, though that was a guess with a deviation of about five years because Blaine had never been good with age guessing. His hair and eyes were both light colored, though he could not tell the exact shade from the distance. Though he walked with a poise and confidence that Blaine had not seen since his last visit with the Warblers, his clothing matching his manner of walking, a stylish-confidence and poised-palate.

Damn... He shook his head, curls falling across his forehead from where he had swept them aside. Rolling his eyes at himself, Now, I know I can't articulate anything.

Blaine paused, then blinked, looking back down to the overcrowded sheet.

That sounds good.

The song had looped back through for a third time by now, but Blaine did not care... he had something.

So he wrote: "like a feeling I just can't articulate"

Someone tapped him on the shoulder.

He found it was the guy that had been walking toward him before, smiling down at him gently-his hair a light brown and his eyes blue—no grey—okay, maybe green.

Blaine quickly pulled out an ear-bud when the young man started to speak.

"Are you saving that seat for someone?" he asked, pointing to the swing behind him.

He glanced back at the swing quickly before shaking his head, "No, I'm not sitting there." Blaine's eyes snapped widened immediately, a blush spreading over his tan cheeks, "I-I mean, 'N-no, I'm not saving it'." He quickly glanced away, the red on his face further darkened after stuttering and he gestured to the seat off-handed, "You can go ahead."

When he heard the other young man chuckle, Blaine could not help but glance up at him, noticing that he too had ear-buds out and was currently replacing the one he had taken out to talk to Blaine.

Blaine mirrored his, now, company and went back to looking uselessly down at his lyric covered page. Thoroughly embarrassed that he just stuttered and had gotten all tongue tied for the first time in what seemed like years.

(Admittedly, the guy was kind of... gorgeous.)

The curly haired young man found himself blinking thoughtfully again, a smirk sneaking up on his lips not long after.

And he wrote: "my tongue is tied by you"

Okay, okay, he thought, this is a lot better than last time I tried to do this.

He hummed softly to himself, reading through what all he had written and decided to try and string some of it together. By the time the song cycled to the middle, Blaine had a piece of it that he actually liked. It was more than he had ever gotten through with any of his attempts at love songs, and his excitement grew as he wrote the phrases out in order on the next page—he could not help himself as the lyrics flowed out of his mouth.

"I just wanna tell you 'I love you', it's the hardest thing to say.
I turn my head upside down, trying to find some kind of way,
Just to tell you 'I need you'—"

Blaine wanted to laugh. Five whole lines of lyrics, strung together in a coherent manner that actually resembled a love song!

His jolted forward suddenly, his swing bumped from behind causing Blaine to snap to look over his shoulder, surprised as he caught the young man sitting behind him looking at him, a slightly awed look on his face. His fair skin immediately lights up red, embarrassed about being caught watching Blaine—or bumping into him.

"Sorry," the other mutters, looking down before turning away.

Blaine looks away too but smilingly, "It's alright."

He quickly scratched out: "before" and jotted down in its place: "but since"

The song started over, so Blaine decided to do the same.

"I could write books in my sleep, without thinking too deep.
I could speak for a hundred days.
I can explain a concept that you—"

His swing jolted forward again before he could finish out the verse. But Blaine turned slower this time, looking back and meeting the most interesting eyes he had ever seen (again)—he smiled.

"Hi," he said gently, with a nod.

The other young man smiled back quickly, "Hello." He looked off to the side, red lighting up his cheeks once again, "I apologize for listening in. It's just hard not to..." he paused, his blue-grey-green eyes meeting Blaine's again, "but I don't recognize the song."

Blaine shook his head, pulling out one of his ear-buds and turning towards his new company, "You wouldn't have..." He rubbed that back of his neck, suddenly nervous, "I'm writing it right now."

"Oh!" he exclaimed, those incredible eyes widening, turning his whole body so that he was now sitting side-ways on the swing. "Then I really am sorry for listening in. It's probably private and—"

He found himself chuckling unexpectedly. "No, not really. I've only just now managed to string any of my jumbled mess into actual lyrics," Blaine said with a shrug, holding up the small note book in his hand for the young man to see. He quickly sat up straighter, suddenly struck by an idea, Blaine mirrored his impromptu audience's position, "Would you mind if I sang it to you?"

The young man with the... beautiful eyes gasped quietly-speechless, it seemed, for all Blaine received was a jerky nod in response.

So Blaine began again, changing lyrics as he went, scribbling down the order quickly-just so he could look back up into those eyes again.

"—Just to tell you I need you, in a way that will be heard,
I try to be a poet, but since I met you, I've never been good with words."

As they sat there staring at one another, Blaine began to catch the way the young man would gasp at certain lines...

"—Just to be specific and be explicit, never thought I'd concentrate.
Do you have any idea what it's like to feel something you just can't articulate?"

How his lips would part as he let out a stuttered breath when Blaine held his gaze...

"—But baby now that I've heard, the trick to the verse, could have done for you.
But everything changes now that you're mine."

How he would start to lick his lips nervously but stop mid-way through...

"—All of my words are left behind,
Cause no matter how hard I try, my tongue is still tied by you."

The look of awe returned to the young man's face—I need to find out his name.

"—I promise you I'm a poet, but since I met you, I've never been good with words."

Blaine grinned, more widely than he was sure looked normal, but he could not help it! He had just performed his very first, finished love song in front of an audience. An audience of one, but that did not make it any less amazing.

"Wow," Mr. Brilliant-Eyes finally said.

Blaine chuckled, "Thanks."

That was when he noticed, sometime during his performance that they had both full turned on the swings, facing each other with their legs just short of being entwined.

The young man sitting across from him must have just noticed their position too, because he shot up from the swing, moving around it and putting some distance between them; face once again red.

"T-that was really... g-good. Good," he nodded, backing away further. "I'm sure that girl you're after will fall right into your arms."

Blaine blinked owlishly, glancing down at his clothes, wondering what would give this guy the impression he was straight but as he looked down-at his loose, worn shirt and pants, scuffed shoes, the slight stubble he could practically feel growing, and the fact that he had left his hair completely ungelled this morning-he quickly got why. But before he could correct the young man (and maybe get his number because he was about the most interesting person Blaine had met since he left Ohio—Blaine could tell from his eyes alone)...

...he was gone.

As Blaine continued to sit there, seemingly lost without the small company he had just held, a muse born out of a random guy he ran into... and he would probably never see him again.

Blaine smiled, waving gently back at his brother as the other man walked backwards towards his own terminal that would take him back to L.A. When Cooper ran into a flight attendant chatting with some travelers, Blaine quickly turned the other way, laughing as he walked towards his own terminal. His plane did not leave for another two hours, but instead of making their parents drive up to the airport twice, it was just easier for Blaine to arrive with his brother, who would probably be late for his plane if he did not stop messing around.

...then again, this was Coop.

The young man found a seat at his terminal, which must have recently boarded a plane because the seating area was quite empty. He pulled his luggage against the seat next to him, giving him a semblance of privacy and hopefully deter anyone from sitting next to him. At least until the seats were all occupied.

It was not as if he did not like the company of people, Blaine quite enjoyed it, but the last two years had been a strange adjustment for him.

The song he wrote, now entitled Words, had been a big hit on the internet. The muse he found in that young man in the park inspired nearly a whole album worth of songs, which had got him signed to a pretty well known label, his opening for some more well known bands, and even his own summer tour next year.

All of that from some guy whose name he does not know, whose face he barely remembers, and whose eyes still haunt his dreams.

Blaine shook his head. He could not let himself dwell on that guy anymore. He had spent his the rest of his stay with his parents that visit at the park, walking around the area, just trying to get a glimpse of him again.

No such luck.

Either way, fame had found him. Even as small as it was he would still get recognized. More so now that he had a guest appearance in the hit show Cheer!, a cheer leading based TV show. It really was only supposed to be one episode the first season but he had been asked back for another two in the second part, and the producers are already talking a five episode return for next season.

He was doing well. So well that he had to take some measures not to be recognized.

He left his hair upgelled most of the time that he was in public and their was a chance he would get noticed, along with just enough stubble to give the illusion his face was shaped differently. While he had to fit his clothes to his public "rugged" look, he tried to stay as close to his real style as he possibly could without looking weird, or off putting.

Blaine was suddenly snapped out of his reflection of the past few years when someone sat down right next to him. But instead of Blaine turning and expecting to see the person looking away from him, down at their phone or whatever, he found them staring right at him—with the most stunning blue-green-gray eyes he had seen since...

The young man blinked, looking over the person sitting next to him in surprise before smiling gently, "Hi."

Mr. Brilliant Eyes smiled back, "Hi. It's been awhile."

"It has," Blaine breathed.

Mr. Brilliant Eyes laughed too, "I wasn't even sure it was you. But I had to take a chance. I mean, when I first heard your song on the radio I was really shocked and then your album came out and that slip about how you were inspired by me... I just... Was that real? Are you real?"

Blaine licked his lips, making a decision. He stuck out his hand between them, "Hi, my names Blaine Anderson. I'm a twenty-four year old musician who got his break from an album that was based on one meeting I had with a random guy with the most striking eyes, in a park down the street from my friend's house... I've been looking for you for what seemed like forever."

Mr. Brilliant Eyes blushed, mouth gaping slightly before he watched as his own hand slipped into Blaine's. "Nice to meet you Blaine Anderson, I'm Kurt Hummel. I'm a twenty-five year old theater major and fashion-guru who wishes he had stayed to give you my name after you sung that song."

The world spun slightly as the continued to hold each others hands, long after they stopped shaking them.

Blaine could not help but smile though as he leaned forward slightly into Kurt's space. He spoke teasingly, but he could not stop how hopeful he sounded, "So, now that I know your name... how about your number?"

Kurt laughed. It was the most attractive laugh that Blaine had ever come across. "You'll have to work a little harder than that."

A/N: Woot! Aren't you glad I added a new ending to it? I know I am. It sounds better. Flows a little more.

Anyways, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

Until next time,

Anjel Starlight.