A/N: This is a re-write.

"Um … uh … I …" Blaine blows out a breath and shifts in his seat "… oh boy." He leans back in his chair, but feeling rude, sits up straight again. He grabs his cane under the table and taps it - an unfortunate tick he developed after the accident that took his sight. "No offense, but … Santana knew, didn't she? I mean, how could she not?" he mutters under his breath. "I knew she could be cruel when she wanted to, but this … this seems a little much, even for her." Blaine shifts again, his constant anxious fidgeting making Kurt's heart hurt for him. He knows what it's like to feel lost and out of his depth.

He feels that way now.

"You know what?" Blaine rails on, voice raising slightly in volume as if there isn't a restaurant full of people around them to hear. "I wouldn't call Santana a friend," Blaine says of his roommate, shaking his head vigorously to add emphasis to his point. "Nope. She's just someone I met in high school that I couldn't get rid of. Like a rash. Like a parasite. Like a parasite that causes a rash. Do you know what I mean?"

Kurt nods. He knows it will do no good, but there's nothing else he can really do but let Blaine vent. He understands what Blaine means about people from high school he couldn't get rid of. One of those followed him to New York, and then moved into his loft without any invitation.

Two, as a matter of fact. One of them a former teacher.

"I'm … I'm sorry, but …" Blaine blows out a breath in frustration for the seventeenth time (Kurt knows because he's been keeping track) "… are you still there? Can you … can you please tap on the table with your knife if you're still there?"

Kurt sighs. He picks up his knife and taps it hard against the table.

Blaine responds with relief. "Good. At least you didn't run off and leave me."

Kurt melts wondering how often that's happened – a blind date running off and leaving without having the decency of letting Blaine know. Kurt imagines him, chattering happily away, sure he and his date are getting along fabulously, just to fall into a long pause in conversation and come to the realization that he's talking to himself.

That's a level of humiliation that Kurt can't conceive of.

But Kurt and Blaine have one thing in common – a tragic accident took something precious from both of them.

A house fire took away Blaine's vision right after college.

A car accident stole Kurt's mother from him when he was only eight. From that day on, he stopped speaking.

He hasn't said a word since.

Kurt met Santana in the support group he attends twice a week. She seemed like such a sweet woman - tough, down-to-earth, but with heartbreak hiding behind her eyes. Santana hadn't taken her turn to 'share' yet, so Kurt isn't exactly sure why she goes, but he figured it was only a matter of time before she opened up. He thought he'd heard a blonde girl mention something about Santana's grandmother shunning her, but he doesn't know if that's true. Why would Santana deliberately set him up with a man who was blind? Kurt can't fathom a reason. The only thing Santana had told Kurt was that he reminded her of Blaine, and that a date with him might be just the thing for both of them.

Whatever that 'thing' is, Kurt has no idea.

"Look, I'm so sorry you got roped into this," Blaine continues, settling into defeat. "I'll completely understand if you want to call it quits."

Kurt's gaze falls to his lap, and it's almost as if Blaine can hear the change in Kurt's mood.

"I'm sorry, Kurt. You're probably a great guy, but this … this obviously isn't going to work, right? B-but don't worry. The next time I see Santana, I'll give her a stern talking to … with my cane."

Kurt startles, then he sputters, a sound that falls somewhere between a choke and a giggle. It's not the most attractive sound, but Blaine catches it.

"At least I know you can laugh," he says, sounding instantly more at ease. "What else? Santana said … uh …" Actually, she said Blaine was becoming an emotionally repressed shut-in who was losing the ability to communicate aside from grunts and the occasional sarcastic remark, but he doesn't need to mention that.

Kurt inclines his head and raises a quizzical brow, and again, Blaine responds as if he knows.

"She said you were handsome."

Kurt ducks his head, biting his lip. Blaine leans over the table, blank but beautiful golden eyes staring in Kurt's direction.

"Was she right?" Blaine whispers with the hint of a grin – teasing, hopeful - shadowing his lips. "Are you handsome?"

Kurt doesn't know what to do. He's not entirely sure how to answer Blaine. He reaches out for Blaine's hand, the tips of his fingers brushing over his skin. Blaine breathes in quickly at the unexpected touch. Kurt slides his fingertips down the length of Blaine's fingers, pads skimming the callouses where Blaine grips his cane, until their hands come together at last, palm to palm. Kurt pulls Blaine's hand up to rest on his shoulder, and then he shrugs.

Blaine pauses a moment, trying to understand what Kurt has told him.

"Oh, you don't know?" Blaine asks. "You don't know if you're handsome?"

Kurt takes Blaine's hand again, intent on pressing it against his cheek except that he's blushing like mad, and he knows Blaine will feel the heat on his skin. But with no other way to communicate his answer, Kurt decides to give in, rushing forward into the cup of Blaine's hand with his cheek resting against his palm.

Kurt shakes his head. No, he's not handsome. Never has been, or at least, never thought he was.

"No, huh." Blaine trails his fingers slowly up Kurt's cheek, travels to his forehead, outlines his brow, traces a line down Kurt's nose, then carefully along the contours of his mouth. Kurt watches Blaine's face, holding his breath, waiting for Blaine to finish.

Waiting for Blaine to come to a conclusion.

"Well, damn," Blaine says finally, putting a finger beneath Kurt's chin. Kurt frowns at Blaine's tone, one he assumes is disappointment. "It seems Santana was right about something after all."

Kurt rolls his eyes but he can't stop the smile that's taking up his entire face.

"So, handsome, what do you say we get out of here? Maybe go somewhere a little more quiet for a drink?"

Kurt takes the hand still hovering beneath his chin and lifts it to his mouth. He lets Blaine feel the smile on his face, lets it brand into his skin before placing a small kiss to the back of his hand.

"That's … that's a yes, I take it?"

Kurt nods, then plucks up enough daring for another kiss. Blaine hums quietly.

"Mmm … now this might work."