Chapter Text
Once, there was a choir called New Directions. They discovered hidden memories and superpowers, and with them they saved the world. All of them returned to New York City, the home they'd never known they'd had. For a while, they worked toward greatness in their own individual ways.
Before their lives fell apart in rotting chunks like old masonry, they spent a time bright with hope.
* * *
Emma Frost studied it. "Are you sure?"
Finn looked uncertainly up at the West End theatre. A new show had opened the previous week. With good reviews and word of mouth it was already a big enough hit to fill all the seats, and they'd had to pull some strings to be allowed entrance. He didn't recognize any of the names in the cast, including 'Gina Weiss.' He recognized Gina's large, dark eyes, though, and the proud span of her mouth. Gina was Rachel. She had to be. He just had no idea how she'd wound up in London, performing under an assumed name. "It's her. I don't know how it's her, but it is."
"Well, come on," Emma said and led him toward the door. "We won't be able to talk to her until after the show, regardless."
Finn wasn't wholly sure what to make of Emma Frost, headmistress of Xavier's school and an important member of the X-Men, but he leaned toward disliking her. She was the woman who'd implanted their fake memories for Ohio, dooming many of them to social torment in the process. She was cold, treated Finn more like a servant than an equal, and had been a highly unpleasant travel partner.
And yet, she'd saved their lives. She'd figured out how to hide them while they were de-powered and helpless, vulnerable to anyone hunting for them. In the end, she'd only been implementing someone else's plan and had done the best job of it that she could. Now that she and Finn were in contact, she even wanted to help him practice his psychic abilities. She was a stronger telepath than him and far more skilled. Finn didn't like her, but he didn't know if he could turn her down.
"I can tell that you're worried," Emma said softly as they took their seats.
"Yeah, you're psychic."
"I haven't read your mind. And once I train you how to keep shields properly in place, I'd have to make a serious effort to do so. You do have potential." She adjusted her clothes. "No, it's that you haven't looked at my décolletage. You're a man in love."
Finn had no idea what that was, so he was pretty sure he hadn't looked at it. Whatever Emma was talking about, it was much more important to worry about Rachel.
She and two others on the Avengers had vanished during a mission. Anthem wasn't a full team member, though, and so the Avengers' resources had been devoted to recovering Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. It wasn't that they didn't care about Rachel, they explained, but they had their priorities. She had to come after they'd secured their biggest assets.
None of Rachel's friends were willing to accept that. Kurt began using S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database to hunt for her, refusing to believe that she was dead. It was no use. Every hour was a fresh failure, and he finally, tearfully pleaded for Finn to stop asking him when he couldn't offer any answers. Shame dripped from his voice. Artie tried to help and was just as useless. Hiram and Leroy were beside themselves with fear, and didn't do any better with finding their baby girl.
Finn was left on his own, feeling even more worthless than any of them, until he suddenly wasn't.
If that 'big round room' in Salem Center had been strong enough to wipe his friends' memories and smooth their arrival into an entire town, Finn reasoned, then it should be able to track down one single person. He didn't know what 'Cerebra' was or what it did, but it had something to do with psychics and that was good enough for him. He rented a car and drove himself to what was apparently the headquarters of the X-Men. After a long explanation and a few carefully dropped names, he was allowed through the gates.
Emma hadn't let him use Cerebra. Untrained like he was, she explained, there was an excellent chance that it would blow his brains out the back of his skull. When she'd clarified that the threat was literal, Finn felt despair begin to overwhelm him. Rachel was gone and the single chance he'd found was a dead end.
Then Emma offered; she, after all, was trained. It took a while for her to run the amplified psychic scan that Cerebra allowed, and she'd needed to dig into Finn's mind to get echoes of what Rachel Berry should feel like, but she'd eventually landed on a possibility.
Now they were watching the curtain rise on that possibility, who hadn't replied to his phone calls and was going by a different name. "I don't understand," he whispered to Emma as the orchestra started. Someone shushed him. He glared, then moved to telepathy. Why is she pretending not to be Rachel? She was happy with her team. I thought she was happy with me.
She might not be aware of what's happened, Emma thought back. Tony and Bruce were disoriented when they were recovered today.
Finn guessed that was true, but she should have remembered something. Anything. The show began, though he paid it no attention, and sounded like so much white noise pressing against his stress headache. Actors he didn't care about sang songs he didn't like, and Finn squirmed in his seat by the third round of applause.
Stop it, Emma thought.
He made a face at her. Emma Frost was gorgeous: statuesque figure, classically beautiful features that put even Quinn's to shame, and quite possibly the most revealing wardrobe he'd ever seen on someone outside of a paid website. But none of that mattered, for he just wanted Rachel next to him and for her to be okay. His breath caught as he saw Gina walk onstage, and again when she sang her first, perfect note. It's Rachel, Finn thought. Tears came to his eyes. He'd found her and she was safe. No one else could sound like that.
All right, Emma thought when she took in his certainty. We'll... convince the security personnel to let us into her dressing room after the show.
Three hours had never seemed so long. Finn nearly bolted for the doors at intermission. Only the sharpness of Emma's glare kept him in his seat, and he sat through the second half with a queasy feeling in his stomach. He wanted to know what had happened to her and he wanted to know now. Finally, blessedly, the curtain fell again. He was in motion before the cast returned for their calls and Emma was close on his heels.
Getting past the guards was simple. "I'm not supposed to mess with people's minds," Finn said warily as he watched Emma control the guards like puppets.
"We're not supposed to do a lot of things," Emma replied, "until we are."
Well, that made no sense. Finn stayed quiet and let her lead them to Rachel's door. "Rachel," Finn breathed when she opened it. Emma shot him a dark look, but he didn't care. They'd found her.
"You're that man," Rachel said, her eyes wide. "The one who called me over the phone." Her voice pitched higher for security, and with an annoyed grunt Emma silenced her and shoved her inside the room.
"You have no sense of stealth whatsoever," Emma said as she pointed Rachel to the couch. Though her face was filled with terror, Rachel's body complied.
"Yeah, Kurt tells me that. Remember him?" Finn asked hopefully, turning from Emma to Rachel. "Kurt?"
"Please don't hurt me," Rachel whispered. Finn flinched.
"I don't know her," Emma said to Finn. "Her mind isn't familiar territory to me. You're positive this is Anthem?"
Finn took in Rachel's face, listened to her voice, and slipped his mind into hers. It was covered like a mask, but he could just feel familiar edges underneath. "It's Rachel."
"All right, then," Emma said, and placed her hands on Rachel's temples. Rachel's breathing sped and sweat trickled down her face, but she didn't run or scream. Emma wasn't letting her. "The only tricky part was identifying her positively. I can see what I need to rip away if she really has been masked, but doing so would have left someone else in quite a state."
Finn stared at Rachel. "You're sure it's safe to—"
Emma swept a wave of telepathic energy across the room and he cringed under its power. Rachel's back arced as she cried mutely at the ceiling. Finn saw one beautiful second of recognition in her eyes before she collapsed, unconscious. "Is she okay?" he asked as he lunged toward Rachel and collected her in his arms.
"She'll probably sleep for a day or two," Emma said and adjusted her gloves, "and will have a headache for a week. But she'll be fine."
Relieved, Finn placed a kiss on her forehead.
"Now," Emma continued, "I need to go secure an exit from this building so that we're not arrested when we walk out of here with one of their lead actresses slung over your shoulder."
An hour later, Finn carefully adjusted Rachel in her seat inside the X-Men's plane. It was a small private jet, and Finn was struck by unfortunate flashbacks to the last time he'd been in such a small craft. He'd been possessed, used to kill someone, and eventually pushed toward his own death that night. He wondered if his counted as the first death among their friends, with how Brittany had reversed it. Death was an unfortunately common companion to those with superpowers. It was why he'd been so terrified over Rachel's disappearance: he'd jumped straight to the worst case scenario.
She really could have been dead, Finn thought, and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. All of them were halfway sure she was.
He'd seen the dull acceptance in Mike, Tina, and Mercedes' eyes at the office, and in Kurt's when he turned away from the S.H.I.E.L.D. computer yet again. It had even been in Burt and Carole when they reassured him that everything would work out. Finn could read thoughts and lift tons; he might not be smart, but his brain was strong in its own way. It had been all too easy to hear that Burt felt sorry for him and that Carole was thinking of ways to comfort her grieving son when he had his fears confirmed.
The steering column in the cockpit moved by itself; the X-Men had phenomenal autopilot software. Finn and Emma took their seats for that takeoff, and their plane was soon in the air.
"I can't believe the Avengers were going to abandon her," Finn said when they'd left the British shores behind.
"They didn't abandon her," Emma corrected. "They prioritized."
"Well, no one should be prioritized above Rachel!"
"So you'd hunt for the barely-trained novice over Iron Man and the Hulk, both of whom have saved so many people that they make your little adventures look like games at recess." Emma poured herself a glass of champagne. "And that's why you're working out of a basement office instead of a skyscraper penthouse."
Finn considered tweaking her mind, like a telepathic equivalent to poking someone obnoxiously on their shoulder.
"I'm a telepath too, you fool." She took another sip of champagne. "And my shields are steel to your tissue paper. When she's a full team member, then trust me, all efforts would be made to find her immediately. The Avengers would have called me on my own, rather than making you come up to the school." Emma looked him over with an arched eyebrow. She was extraordinarily good at giving those judgmental looks. Under it, his irritation fell away and Finn felt like he should apologize for being tall, brown-haired, and generally him. "I expect you to provide me with times when you'll be available for psychic training, by the way."
"Yes, ma'am," Finn said obediently. Emma narrowed her eyes. "Miss. Uh. Emma."
"Better. You'll learn about solving problems by any means necessary, as well. If we couldn't have found her with Cerebra, then there'd be the potential for Doctor Strange to perform some magical scrying, or... what?"
"Doctor Strange?" Finn repeated.
"Stephen Strange is one of the most powerful individuals on this planet," Emma said. She adjusted her gloves again with sharp flicks of her wrists. "The Sorcerer Supreme of Earth. He deals with tremendous forces, dimensional walls, life and death itself."
"Doctor Strange, Doctor Doom, Mr. Fantastic," Finn mumbled to himself. "And people made fun of 'the Awesomes.'" She shot him a withering glare, but whatever: their names were stupid, no matter how powerful they were. "I'm gonna take a nap, all right?" He'd barely slept since making his frantic drive to Salem Center, and they had a transatlantic flight still ahead of them.
"Fine. I can already tell that you'll present me with no shortage of trouble."
Finn agreed with her vaguely and then sank into the seat next to Rachel. She made a soft noise and turned to him before going slack again.
She was alive, Finn thought with relief as he stroked her hair. They'd found her. It wasn't the worst case scenario. Finn knew other people had watched him die before Brittany turned back the clock. When he thought of that, he feared. If it happened to him, despite being only seventeen when he took a bullet to the head, it could happen to anyone. He'd be one hundred percent okay if he were the only one of them to ever die before they were old and grey in their beds.
* * *
Her fork twirled in her pasta. He gave her time to answer without prodding further. "I suppose I'm fine," Rachel said.
"That didn't sound very convincing," Mercedes said.
They sat for a while again. A cold front had moved over the city and September felt like late October. They'd taken a seat inside the restaurant, near the window. New York seemed quiet outside as they waited. "I'm not hurt. It wasn't like it was traumatizing to be opening a show in the West End. I was singing. I love performing as much as I love helping people." The tines of her fork scratched her plate. "But we all spent years not knowing who we really were," Rachel eventually finished. "I hate knowing that someone was able to stop me from being me again. I had no idea who I was, and that's terrifying."
"Brains are a lot easier to mess with than they should be," Kurt agreed. "At least your psychic boyfriend was helping get your memories back, instead of shielding them from you because he didn't want you making out with Puck."
Rachel managed to laugh, which Kurt had hoped for. "Not to say that he'd be happy if I did kiss Puck," she said and scooped up a real forkful of food.
"Neither would I," Kurt pointed out.
"It'd be fine," Mercedes said with a grin as the mood at the table brightened. "You all could just trade around a little. Rachel takes Puck, and Kurt takes—"
"Do not finish that sentence," Kurt said and gestured at her with his butter knife.
"But you loved him," Mercedes crooned. He flipped his knife around to get a better grip, like he was really going to drive it through her heart, and she burst out giggling.
Rachel joined her. "Thank you. I needed this. It's been all business in the Tower, and I just had to remember being me."
After a pointed look at Mercedes that dared her to start teasing him again, Kurt smiled at Rachel. "We're just glad to have you back. We were frantic, you have no idea."
"At least Kurt could do something," Mercedes added. "He used his big fancy computers and worked on finding you. We're supposed to be able to hunt down info, but three of us were sitting there as totally useless 'private investigators' even after Finn realized he could do his brain deal. Sam tried, too. Guess he's not gonna be an investigative reporter any time soon."
Kurt eyed her and said nothing. She and Sam were taking another semi-break, even if they hadn't officially labeled it. His work was stressful, her work was stressful, and they'd started taking out their stress on each other. It was either see each other full-time again in a few months or never want to see each other again.
"I appreciate it," Rachel said. "Really. In the end, it took an incredibly well-trained psychic using one of most powerful amplifiers on earth to find me. You didn't fail. It was a high bar to cross."
Kurt neatly dissected another lamb chop before he replied. It was in perfect, even pieces like a surgeon had gone at it. He'd only taken one stroke per cut and the girls looked very mildly impressed. "What was it like, though? You said you were fine, but you've just been sleeping and getting your mind checked. You've barely told us anything about what really happened."
"We know what it's like to have false memories," Rachel said, shrugging. "It felt like waking up from those, but all at once. It overwhelmed me, I'm just now over my headaches, and I'll be fine. I'm back where I should be." Her finger traced her water glass and she admitted, "It felt wonderful, though. It was exactly what I used to dream of. If Finn and Ms. Frost had tried to tell me why they were there instead of just ripping off those false memories, I would have had them arrested. I would have stayed in London for the rest of my life, never knowing who I really was. And I'd have been blissfully happy as you all mourned me and while people died because I wasn't there to save them." Tempted by their own personal paradise: it was actually quite a clever attack to launch on a group of heroes.
Kurt squeezed her hand. "I have an idea. I have ridiculous contacts through S.H.I.E.L.D."
Mercedes gestured with a sourdough roll toward Rachel. "I think she's got ridiculous contacts, too. Avengers, remember? Meanwhile, I'm faced with working on my bookkeeping homework all evening. I just came here for my lunch hour cause you guys were paying." She grinned to softened her last line and they both smiled back at her.
"I know someone who knows someone who would love a live singer at her club," Kurt continued. "I know you can't commit to a recurring role, but...." He shrugged. "But you were born to be onstage, however it happens."
"That might be fun," Rachel said. "And what about you?"
"I can't," Kurt demurred.
"You can't, even if you use a stage name?" she asked right back. Mercedes looked at him just as pointedly. She and the rest of their crew haunted karaoke bars for stress relief, Kurt knew; they found room for performing after they spent their days solving crimes. They got attention when they walked in. They were famous, even if only in that small circle.
"Maybe if I use a stage name." He couldn't really promise anything, though. At most, maybe he'd see about joining the agency on their trips to karaoke bars. While the party Rachel had thrown at the Tower was entertaining, he did miss having an audience of strangers.
They worked through the remnants of their lunches in silence, interrupted only by occasional commentary on their meals. Kurt kept glancing at Rachel, who let him observe her. She'd been a missing person, Schrödinger's cat. So long as they didn't hear anything, they feared; so long as they didn't hear the worst, they hoped. Now, she was back in New York and the only thing she'd suffered was losing her outdated dreams. As far as enemies went, Kurt thought as he sipped his sparkling water, that had to be one of the kindest the Avengers had faced.
After her return, Colonel Nick Fury had started griping about chaos powers and telepathy and magic, and how he hated anything that could change the world and people's perceptions. Kurt fought back a smile at the memory. As a friend of Brittany Pierce and Finn Hudson-né-Hutton's brother, Kurt got more than his fair share of glares directed at him during Fury's complaints. But, in the end, the Avengers' foe had turned out to be a billionaire who viewed himself as Stark's rival and whose powers were all bought off eBay, and everything was neatly wrapped up.
Funny, Kurt thought as he finished. A billionaire bought magical powers and nearly stole your friend away from you forever, and it's just a normal day at the office. Their lives had become very strange.
"I've been gone," Rachel said as she dabbed her mouth with her napkin. "We promised we'd call once he was settled in. It's well into the semester. Let's call, I want to do normal things again."
Kurt stared blankly at Rachel before he remembered their collective promise to call Blaine and see how he liked Brown University. He'd been in contact with Blaine, of course, but this was going to be a collective send-off that would lend a sense of formality to the semester. Then Rachel had vanished. "Of course," he said, and shook his head to clear it. It was terrible of him to have forgotten.
Mercedes made the call. Kurt knew that his would be the most dangerous phone number to show up on Blaine's caller ID. Rachel's was slightly better, as some of the Avengers maintained normal social lives. Even so, the people adjacent to the famous team risked being collateral damage. Mercedes lived as normal a superpowered life as was possible. "Hey, you," she soon said warmly. "How's Rhode Island? You're on speaker."
"I love it," said Blaine. "Who am I talking to?"
Their server shot them a dirty look as she delivered their bill. Apparently, speakerphone conversations weren't appreciated in the restaurant. Kurt gave her a credit card quickly. "Rachel and I, along with Mercedes. I know we talked a little online about school, but everything really looks good? Do you have a roommate?"
"I do," Blaine said. "All freshmen do."
"I know, but yours just didn't show up the first week." Apparently, that boy had a crisis of confidence about leaving home for a school across the country.
"Mmm, right. They assigned someone else. His name's Richmond, he's actually a sophomore who missed the housing lottery, and he's straight out of a book on WASP stereotypes. He showed up the first day practically wearing my wardrobe, too, and I think he thought we were destined to be best friends forever. Then I mentioned I'm in drama." Theatre was the first of Blaine's concentrations.
"And he's taking?" Rachel asked.
"Computational biology." He took in their silence. "I know, I don't have any idea what that is, either. But my major being so different convinced him to give me a foot of distance, at least. I'm holding off on mentioning public policy so I don't encourage him, since I think he'd like that. He's nice enough, just... enthusiastic."
Kurt signed the check and added a tip, and they headed for the door. "So," he said neutrally. "He's 'enthusiastic?' Is he nice?"
"Blaine just said he was nice. Weren't you listening?" Mercedes asked with a smirk and Kurt shot her a dirty look.
Blaine's voice practically carried a smirk, too. "His girlfriend seems to think so."
Oh. Well, fine. "That's good," Kurt said. He was happy, he was seeing someone, and he and Blaine hadn't been going together for years. Still, there was an unspoken assumption they'd held to, despite their best initial intentions: don't talk about dating. They could talk about work or school, they could talk about apartments, they could talk about family, but romance was off-limits. It had worked well for them, but perhaps it wasn't healthy to do this forever. If they were friends, they should be able to talk about anything.
Mercedes and Rachel exchanged a look. "Here," Mercedes said, and clicked a button on her phone. The speaker died. "I'm going to go ask Rachel about London, and you two are going to talk without an audience." After pressing the phone into Kurt's hand, the girls walked off arm-in-arm.
Smiling and shaking his head, Kurt raised the phone to his ear. "Apparently, I'm not very subtle."
"You can be," Blaine said. "You can also be like—"
"Las Vegas at midnight, I know." Kurt took a deep breath. "It's been two years. We should be able to talk about everything, and we both know there's been one big area where that hasn't happened. Did you date anyone at Dalton before you graduated?"
Blaine hesitated. "Yes. There were two boys. One ended poorly, and I'd rather not get into it, and the other was very sweet."
"Did I ever meet him? The second one?" Kurt asked. He didn't actually know if he wanted a face to put to that 'sweet' description. If Blaine had described the first one a bit more intensely, Kurt might have asked for enough information to track the boy down. A special agent had plenty of shady tactics to leave someone afraid of his own shadow. So long as he was judicious with terrifying people, Kurt doubted he'd take too much heat for abusing his powers.
"No. He enrolled after you left. It was just for his last two years, and so we graduated at the same time. Ethan. Very kind, quite shy, and fond of tennis. He looks like a young Idris Elba." Each word made Kurt grumpier, but he fought to contain that reaction. They were friends, after all. They should be able to talk about their boyfriends. Maybe it would have been easier if they'd ended their relationship in a screaming argument, instead of with both of them saying how much they didn't want the inevitable to happen and that it could have worked in another world. Kurt was in love with someone else, happy with someone else, but a dark selfish part of him wanted Blaine to forever mourn his decision to break up with Kurt.
"He does sound sweet," Kurt said. The word curdled on his tongue. "But you split up?"
"He went to Pomona. California to Rhode Island was a little far to try to keep anything going."
"I'm sorry." Kurt managed to make that sound sincere, mostly meant it, and he took pride in both.
"You've steered clear of telling me anything, too," Blaine said after the line was silent for a few beats. "Has there been anyone?"
"Another S.H.I.E.L.D. agent," Kurt said. "Jack. It was a long distance problem there, too. He transferred to a base in Japan." Jack didn't operate on the front lines like Kurt, but he still had basic defensive training. Meeting him was the first time Kurt had relaxed in the way he'd never been able to when someone smiled at him on the street. This man won't wind up in a hospital bed, Kurt had thought as he watched Jack unload a full clip of bullets into a target.
Jack was ten years older than Kurt, though, and he'd wanted to boost his career before it was too late. Kurt didn't blame him for that. Even ended, the relationship was a jolt of confidence. Kurt had done it: he'd dated someone and that person hadn't been brainwiped or nearly died. After that triumph, he went on dates with other agents and men with powers. Even if none of them had really been serious before Puck returned, it felt so wonderfully normal.
"Kurt?" Blaine asked when Kurt lost himself for a bit too long in those recollections. He didn't want to broach the present. "Did that end... poorly?"
"No. It wasn't that. Jack was wonderful, he just had to leave." Kurt bit his lip. "I was debating telling you that I'm seeing someone right now."
"Why would you tell me about one person, and not... ah." Kurt blushed. Yes, sometimes he was very transparent, and Blaine clearly remembered the near-showdown that he and Puck had held while Kurt remained oblivious. "For how long?"
"He showed up about two months ago. Maybe closer to three, by now. We spent the first month getting him settled back in to his life here, and, well." Kurt swallowed. "Puck's a really good guy."
"I know. I knew that when he saved my life. I heard that he even waited around to see how things went with me." Blaine took a deep breath. "If he can save me, then he can keep you safe, too."
Kurt started in surprise. Their breakup had been because Blaine had been injured, not Kurt. "I didn't realize you worried about that."
"Of course I do," Blaine said quietly. "Every time you take a while to reply to a message, I worry about where you are."
"Oh."
"Everyone does. Maybe you don't realize that."
"Oh," Kurt repeated, and clutched the phone more closely. "It's... I'm fine. And you're right, Puck's very tough. I could block anything fast before it hit him, and he could block anything big before it hit me. We're both safe, all right?"
"All right. I'll try to remember that the next time it takes you a few days to reply. Ah, I have class in twenty minutes, and I should really put on something besides this t-shirt...."
Kurt smiled and wondered if Blaine would stick to his routine during his entire undergraduate career. If he lived up to the campus stereotype, he'd walk out of senior year with unstyled hair and at least one accessory made from hemp. Perhaps his WASPy roommate would keep him in line, or perhaps Richmond would wind up streaking across the quad. "Of course. It was good talking to you. I'll be sure to reply to any messages right away, so that you don't worry."
"Thank you," Blaine said sincerely. "Tell Mercedes and Rachel goodbye for me, all right?" He didn't offer any message to Puck, but Kurt supposed they could take things one step at a time.
"That took a while," Mercedes said after Kurt found the girls window shopping and returned her phone.
"I told him about Puck," Kurt said.
Rachel looked intrigued. Apparently, the lure of gossip far outweighed any lingering effects from being brainwashed and dumped in London. "And?"
"He seems all right with it so long as Puck serves as my eternal human shield," Kurt said with amusement. He saw Mercedes checking the clock on her phone and did the same with his. They'd taken too long. She'd be late getting back to work. "Here," he added, and held out a few bills.
When Kurt or Rachel asked Mercedes to come see them, going well out of her way for their benefit, Mercedes showed no guilt in letting them pay. "Thanks. I gotta go, all right? I'm always the person ragging on people when they show up late, so I need to get back pronto."
Rachel drew her into a firm hug. "Thank you for caring that I vanished."
"Are you crazy? Of course I cared," Mercedes said and squeezed her back, hard. "Don't go taking off again. You need to stay right here in New York and kick butt right where we can see you."
"I'll try my very best," Rachel said.
"You'd better." Mercedes waved one last time at them and then managed to hail a cab. She soon vanished into the sea of traffic and was gone.
Kurt's arm snaked around Rachel's waist and he pulled her close. "She's right. You need to stay right where we can see you."
"You really were worried, weren't you? More than you've told me."
"Rachel, I remember what you looked like when you were six years old, and I thought I'd never see you again. I was losing my mind." Kurt swallowed. "I know now you weren't in any danger, but I didn't know that then."
She leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Well, thank you for worrying. Let's figure out how you'll be able to sing on stage with me, at least once. I don't care if you are a big fancy agent. We'll come up with a stage name."
They set off walking down the street together, with Kurt's arm still snug around her. "Please don't say you're going to invite your bosses."
"I have to, Kurt. I'm trying to make a good impression on everyone."
"When Tony Stark gets near alcohol, he gets drunk." Kurt grumbled at the memory of a visit to the Tower, when Rachel had held a karaoke party for her friends and teammates.
She'd invited everyone but Sam in that first visit, to see how all those superpowered people did together. A more specific memory from that party replaced his scowl with a smirk. With how Finn had accidentally angered Bruce Banner, it was a good thing Sam had stayed away.
"Tony's drunk a lot," Rachel said. "He's fine."
"No. When he gets drunk, he gets friendly."
"I know he gets handsy, but I'm quite capable of managing Tony. He's never a threat. At worst, he's an annoyance."
Kurt cleared his throat. "At worst, he tells me 'either ditch the butch haircut or visit this great surgeon I know in Hollywood, babe,' before he gropes my chest." He wasn't sure if he'd ever wanted to punch a man in the nose more.
Rachel tried to cover her smile. She'd pay for that.
Kurt harrumphed. "I'm never saying a word around him again. Apparently, drunk Tony is easily confused."
"I'll find a way to keep Tony away from you," Rachel promised.
"You'd better." Despite their jabs, it was so good to have her back, Kurt thought as they walked in comfortable silence. Their definition of 'normal' might be an unusual one, but he still wanted it.