Author's Note: It's five AM here. I'm still high from the insanity that was the Glee finale and, apparently, the only thing that stuck with me was Blaine and Kurt's conversation. So, if you haven't seen it yet THERE BE SPOILERS HERE. Consider yourself warned.


"So… he said he loved me."

"Oh."

"Oh? That's all I get? David, don't take this the wrong way, please, but you're the worst gay friend anyone could possibly have."

"Maybe I'm just a friend, then."

"No, no, no, you're not pulling back now, you're –"

"Fuck you, Kurt."

"…what."

"You fucking heard me."

"Okay, should I hang up now?"

"Whatever."

"David!"

"Yeah, what."

"Oh, fine. Be that way. You're just bitter because you don't have an incredible boyfriend –"

"Fucking hell, Hummel!"

" – who knows your coffee order and sings amazingly and dances even better and – "

"Shut up, shut up, just shut the fuck up!"

" – and has perfect hair all the time and says 'I love you' like it's nothing, like you've been saying it to each other forever, like it's just 'You're cute even if you have the sexual appeal of a baby penguin' and not fucking 'I love you'!"

"Shut – Wait, what?"

"You heard me."

"Did you just… Kurt, did you just swear?"

"Well, I guess I did!"

"Hey."

"I can do it if I feel like it, alright? You do it all the time for no reason, so why can't I when – "

"Kurt."

" – when I have such a good. Fucking. Reason!"

"Kurt."

"What!"

"It's okay. I won't tell anyone 'bout your potty mouth."

"Why, thank you so much. How can I ever repay you? Oh, I know. Next time you rely on me and expect my support I'll just tell you to… go away."

"Potty mouth ran out?"

"Go have sexual intercourse with yourself, why won't you, Karofsky."

"Fuck, if I could… Ugh, creepiest mental picture ever."

"Charming."

"Never said I was."

"Very true."

"Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm not sorry you don't love Bland."

"What? I-I never said that, I just – "

"If you did you'd have snuck out by now, driven up to Doucheville and jumped his pretty little bones."

"I don't sneak out."

"You would if you loved him."

"I would, would I?"

"Yeah. At least once."

"And why is that? Pray tell me."

"'Cause when you're in love you do things you never thought you would. You sneak out at two in the morning, you say 'I love you' 'cause you just can't keep it in anymore, you start reading about Broadway musicals of the 1940s, you practice singing love songs you'll never sing, you wear fucking ugly red berets, and you kiss boys who hate you in dirty locker rooms."

"David…"

"That's what you do, Fancy. That's what you do."

"It sounds complicated. And messy."

"Tell me about it."

"Broadway musicals? Really?"

"Shut up."

"You shouldn't just read about them. You should listen."

"How fun!"

"… oh my god, Dave, you sounded so gay right now."

"Have you met you, Princess?"

"Anyway."

"Did you say it back?"

"Yes."

"… Good."

"R-really?"

"Yeah. What else could you say?"

"What else could I say?"

"'I'm sorry.' 'I don't.' 'I'm joining the circus. Always wanted to be a clown juggler.'"

"'Clown juggler'?"

"Fucking hate clowns."

"Me too."

"Did he buy it?"

"…I-I think so."

"Oh."

"I don't know what to do, David."

"You're asking me?"

"You're my friend."

"I'm the guy who thought wooing meant throwing your crush into fucking lockers and slushying the life out of him."

"You never slushied me. You actually missed that time."

"Who said I was talking about you, Fancy? Look at that ego go."

"… oh. Sorry."

"Right, you gotta be fucking kidding me."

"What? What did I do now?"

"Really?"

"Ugh, David! You're so… frustrating!"

"The ladies love it."

"How very heterosexual of you."

"My hockey buddies would be so proud."

"I'm sure they would."

"What are you gonna do next?"

"About what?"

"Bland."

"Seriously, David?"

"He is! Always so perfect and pretty and blargh."

"This is the second time you've called my boyfriend pretty in the span of this conversation. Should I be worried?"

"You don't love him, so."

"I might. One day, I will."

"Have a good fucking life, then."

"So sweet."

"Never said I was."

"That's your excuse for everything, isn't it? Besides, I thought you liked pretty boys."

"Wow, Fancy, do you have a license for that ego you're carryin'?"

"I meant Sam, obviously."

"Evans?"

"Santana told me about you. And the might-have-happened-because-I-never-take-Santana's-words-at-face-value checking out of Sam's butt."

"Godammit, so it's true she can keep her fucking mouth closed as much as her legs, then."

"Seriously, David, I'm vomiting pink hearts at all the lovely things you say about your girlfriend."

"'S true."

"Nevertheless, you should keep it to yourself around people who don't recognize your relationship for the smelly lie it is."

"Like you and Bland?"

"No. Blaine and I are incredibly happy together, thank you."

"Like me and Santana. We like, rule the school, y' know?"

"I'm laughing in the inside."

"'Course you are."

"Dave…"

"W-what?"

"Why can't I just be happy with what I have? Blaine is perfect, and he loves me! He loves me!"

"Like that's so fucking hard."

"Excuse me?"

"You're like, the easiest person to love, ever."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, shut up, you know you're perfect."

"…"

"Kurt?"

"…"

"Oh, come on."

"…"

"Well, fuck you to."

"… I-I am?"

"God, what's your damage?"

"Dave…"

"You're telling me your perfect pretty boyfriend tells you 'I love you' like you're the ketchup to his French fries or some shit, and he doesn't tell you that?"

"He says – he says I'm adorable."

"What!"

"It's a compliment!"

"Fuck, you're like, the least adorable person on the planet."

"Well, thank you! You're just too kind!"

"No, stop it, jus – just listen, okay?"

"… Fine."

"You're not adorable. You're bitchy, and loud, and annoying as fuck, and snobbish and petty. You're a pain in the ass and –"

"Well, this has been lovely, but I think –"

" – and love to play the frigid ice queen and do drama like nobody's business. You're not adorable. Kittens nuzzling puppies are adorable. Hell, my little sister is adorable, when she's not bringing down the house in one of her diva fits."

"Is that all? Are you done insulting me? Can I go now?"

"You're hot. And I don't even mean Evans hot, or – or James Dean hot, I mean you hot. Which is pretty fucking indecent, if you ask me. And your nose is perfect and your fucking mouth and you have really pretty ey – but you're not adorable, Kurt."

"Should I feel complimented?"

"How the hell should I know? I don't even know how I'm supposed to be feeling half the time."

"So I'm a hot guy with an awful personality? Could be worse, I guess."

"No, you… you're perfect, okay?"

"Like Blaine?"

"The fuck… No! Where are you getting this? You're nothing like him, d'you hear me? Nothing."

"Then what am I, David?"

"You're – you're kind. And you care. Really care, not just 'bout what you think it's best but about what other people really want. You're special. And not in the "everybody's special, hooray" way. It's the good kind, the kind that will get you out of this fucked up town. And you're funny and scary smart and you make friends with people who should be eating the dirt you step on."

"David."

"'S true. You are – and I'm nothing."

"Don't."

"Kurt – "

"Don't, David! If I have to believe all those things you said about me, then you must never, ever repeat that around me again, understand?"

"Kurt –"

"You're not nothing, David! You're – you're not!"

"Kurt –"

"What!"

"I love you."

"Oh."

"Fuck."

"Dave…"

"Fuck, forget it, okay?"

"No, I don't think I will."

"God, Kurt, don't do –"

"I – I have to go, now."

"No, don't –"

"We'll talk tomorrow, okay?"

"Kurt –"

"See you tomorrow, David."

"Don't – Kurt."

"…"

"Fine."

"…"

"Fucking swell."

"…"

"G'bye."