AUTHOR'S NOTE: HOLY SCHNIKEYS WE ARE BACK AFTER SO MANY YEARS. Bet you guys didn't miss me AT ALL, and most of your probably stopped reading, but I decided what the hell and I'm gonna try to make a comeback, somehow…
We're bringing Listed back because that was my most beloved story, and I always had a blast writing it, so let's hope some of ya'll haven't given up on me yet! My writing style will most likely be different now (I'm 23 now – I started this at 15 or 16), but I hope you guys still like it. *fingers crossed*

Quality #13: Will dance with me on an empty Broadway stage.

"Wow, your boy's got goals."
"Okay, I don't know about the two of you, but I think this one might be kind of impossible. How on Earth am I supposed to pull this off?"
"Hey B, remember when I said I know a guy who knows a guy who works with the stage manager of the Winter Garden?"
"…Wes? Can I kiss you?"
"HELL NO."
"Hang on, lovebirds – check out number fourteen."

Quality #14: Will dance with me when there's no music.

"Oooooo, looks like we might be able to kill two birds with one stone here."
"I just hope all those dance lessons you gave us during rehearsal didn't rub off on me. Do you know what rhythm is? Or dancing for that matter?"
"Frodo, I swear if you were not my adopted son…"

Mamma Mia! had been a whirlwind of colors, dancing, sperm donors and all-out hilarity. It had been quite some time since Kurt had seen a Broadway show, and while the pop-song jukebox musical might not have been his first choice, Blaine had been kind enough to not only get them tickets, but box-seat tickets.
Not to mention it was well-worth it to watch Blaine bop along in his seat and sing every song under his breath, his (rarely) ungelled curls bouncing freely and his eyes shining with excitement and nostalgia.
The long weekend from Dalton was exactly what the both of them had needed. The bus trip out to NYC wasn't unbearably long, and Blaine's brother Cooper had a loft in Manhattan that he was not currently using, so they were able to save money on a room for a three-day trip. They still had other plans to go through – walk through Central Park, see Wicked (and cry), find the best pizza joint in the city – but for tonight, it was ABBA's greatest hits.
However, the show had ended over an hour ago. The actors had come and gone from the stage door (Kurt's Playbill was covered in black Sharpie squiggles), and all that was left of the audience were a few stragglers trying to hail cabs that never seemed to want to stop.
"Blaine, come on. It's starting to get chilly. I cannot get cracks in my face from my skin being too dry in this cold," Kurt urged, tugging Blaine's hand. He was eager to get back to the loft and get warm under blankets… maybe even warmer under something, or rather someone, else.
Blaine remained steadfast however, pulling Kurt back to his side easily, releasing his hand in favor of his trim waist. He planted a firm kiss on the taller boy's cheek. "Just a minute longer, babe. It'll be so worth it, trust me."
No longer than thirty seconds later, the stage door opened once again. A thirty-something man poked his head out of the opening, looking around furtively, eyebrow cocked. He directed his attention to Blaine, then to Kurt, and back to Blaine again. "You're Anderson?"
Blaine's grip on Kurt's waist tightened briefly before he let go and went to shake the man's hand. To Kurt, this was starting to look more and more like a back-door drug deal. He'd seen enough New York movies to know that these never really ended well. He fidgeted nervously, digging the toe of his tan leather boot into the sidewalk.
Blaine's smile looked naïve in this setting, but his voice was confident and jovial. "Yeah, Blaine! Are you Steve Bowman?"
The guy – Steve – stood a little taller and reached for Blaine's outstretched hand. "Yep, that's me. Welcome to the Winter Garden. Did you guys enjoy the show?"
Blaine looked to Kurt for a response, and in his panic, Kurt could only nod and blink. Blaine laughed. "I absolutely loved it, and I guess Kurt did too. Are we all set in there?"
Steve nodded once, humming in the affirmative. "Yeah, yeah, everything's ready. All the actors went home, most of the crew is gone… You better tell Wes that he owes me huge."
Kurt's eyebrows flew into his hairline in surprise. Wes?
Blaine caught the change in expression, and just winked with a cocky smirk before turning back to Steve. "Yeah, he knows. He's already being hounded by the 'guy who knows a guy'."
At that, Steve chuckled, then smiled a little before opening the door wider. "Well, come on in then. I'll lead the way."
The interior looked pitch black from Kurt's position, and he froze in fear on the pavement. No way was he getting in a building – even if it was a Broadway theatre – with the inside looking like the start to a horror film.
Blaine paused, a worried look crossing his eyes briefly before he smiled softly, holding out a hand to his boyfriend. "Trust me?"
With shaky fingers and sweaty palms, Kurt took Blaine's hand and they entered the building.

Kurt was stunned.
No, more than that - he was awestruck.
The stage was lit dimly, and the main set had been pushed to the back of the stage behind a large black curtain, shielding it from view. The polished black floor showed signs of wear-and-tear as Kurt stepped cautiously around on it, afraid that if he stomped his foot or made the wrong move that this wonderful dream would end abruptly and he'd be snapped back to reality.
He stared out over the sea of empty chairs in the theatre, finally getting a chance to see how it looked from the other side. Even with not a single audience member, he could hear the echoes of cheers and applause ringing in the walls around him. Feeling as though he had to, he swept one long leg behind the other and took a deep bow.
From behind him, there was a slight snigger.
He turned to look at Blaine, who was simply admiring his boyfriend from afar, no doubt relishing in the joy he'd put on Kurt's face. He shrugged out of his winter coat, Kurt's already having been shucked off and tossed to the floor beside him, and took a few steps closer, coming to center stage with Kurt.
"So," he whispered, the word nearly swallowed by the enormity of the room, "Did I do good?"
Kurt laughed once, then immediately grabbed Blaine around the neck and hugged him close to his chest.
"Are you kidding me?" he guffawed, squeezing Blaine so tight he was afraid the shorter boy would lose oxygen. "This is unbelievable! Rachel is absolutely going to die, or kill me, or both. How in the world did you manage to do all of this?"
Blaine pushed back a bit from his boyfriend's tight embrace, smiling sweetly as he looked up into Kurt's blue eyes. "Wes, actually. He knows a guy who knows a guy, you know…"
Tear suddenly started swimming in Kurt's eyes, and he rested his forehead against Blaine's as one lone droplet fell and hit the stage with a small plop! "Thank you, thank you, thank you."
They stayed like that for a while, nose to nose, just breathing in the feeling of standing on a Broadway stage, something that for both of them felt like a distant dream. A few kisses were shared here and there, but no words, no sounds.
After what felt like an hour or so, Blaine moved, ever so slowly, and took Kurt's hand in his own, lacing their fingers together. He wrapped his other hand around Kurt's hip, and without moving their faces apart, started to sway slowly in place.
Kurt giggled slightly, the sound bubbling up out of his chest in confusion. "What are you doing, honey?"
Blaine snorted. "I'm dancing with you. Was that not clear? Do I need to start a waltz?"
Kurt laughed loudly then, throwing his head back with a wide smile. "No, you don't. But there's no music!"
At this, Blaine looked up at him from under his eyelashes, the green of his hazel eyes strikingly vibrant under the stage lights. "Who says there has to be?"
Kurt kissed him then, long and sweet, their tongues tangling together as they moved in a slow circle, Kurt's arms wrapping around Blaine's shoulders and Blaine's arms caressing his waistline, his hands pressing dangerously close to the waistband of Kurt's low-rise jeans.
After they pulled apart to catch their breath, Kurt laid his head on Blaine's shoulder and smiled.
He didn't think anything could top this moment.

On Monday, back in school, Blaine and Kurt were walking to lunch, their hands swinging between them, when Kurt's cell rang abruptly. The ringtone notified the both of them that it was Mercedes, and the excited and pleading look in Kurt's eyes told Blaine that he hadn't had a chance to tell Mercedes yet about their weekend in NYC, and he was absolutely dying to.
"Go on," Blaine urged, pushing Kurt gently towards the junior commons. "I'll meet up with you in there, okay?"
Kurt didn't respond – his phone was already on his ear and he was practically screaming into the phone within a few seconds.
Blaine rolled his eyes and turned for the cafeteria. After grabbing a sandwich, an apple and some water, he sauntered over to where David and Wes sat across from one another, looking over a possible set list.
"Hey, B!" David greeted as Blaine took a seat beside him. "How was New York?"
Blaine smiled wide. "Absolutely amazing. We saw Mamma Mia and Wicked, we got to walk to Strawberry Fields, we even made it to a comedy club and saw – "
"YEAH, yeah, whatever," Wes interrupted over Blaine's rambling. "Did you do it?"
Blaine cocked his head to the side, his thick eyebrows coming together in confusion. "It? What 'it' are you referring to, Wesley? If you mean anything sexual, then I'm sorry, but that isn't your business."
As David began cackling beside him, Wes turned so red he could have been mistaken for a tomato with a face. "Dammit Blaine, you know what I mean! Don't tell me I paid that Steve guy $400 for nothing!"
Blaine smiled wickedly, then laughed lightly before responding, "Yes, we went to the stage after the show, and yes we danced on the stage without music. Everything is accounted for. Satisfied?"
David interjected briefly, turning to Wes with a questioning look. "Where did you come up with enough to shell out $400? Are you turning tricks or draining from the Warbler fund?"
As Blaine laughed and took a bite out of his sandwich, Wes swatted at David from across the table.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sooo… yeah. Welcome back. :)