Inspired by a *delightful* catyuy prompt.
In Brief: "I want a future fic where Jane gets her first Broadway lead and she’s not nervous until they tell her that Blaine Anderson has been cast as her leading man. She’ll have to make out with Mr Anderson, oh god Mr Hummel is going to kill her…”
Thanks to tchrgleek for the beta! Read on AO3
Kurt gets to his phone after the first ring. He’s not worried, exactly. His father is fine and everyone else, including his husband at the kitchen table, is accounted for. Still, nothing good comes from phone calls before either of them have had their coffee.
He’s ready for an “emergency” on Rachel or Artie’s respective sets, but not for the wail that erupts from the receiver.
“I’M SORRY. Mr. Hummel? Is that you? Oh my god, I’M SO SORRY!”
“Excuse me—?” Kurt tries to cut off the sound, but the wailing rises, and he has no idea who might be apologizing for something on the other end of the line. He has well-worn methods for calming Rachel, Tina, or even Sam (the latter of which mostly involves handing the phone over to Blaine), but without a name—
“I had no idea when I auditioned for the part, Mr. Hummel, I promise!” the voice cries. “My agent thought it would be a good fit, and she was actually right. I haven’t seen a part since Nabulungi in The Book of Mormon that’s such an excellent fit for my skill set, but that doesn’t make up for— for” She trails off in a mumble about kissing and Warbler blazers. In that moment, Kurt suddenly remembers bright eyes and a broad, giddy smile.
“Jane? Is that you?” He leans against one hip against the kitchen countertop and squints into space, as though that might make her logic come into focus. “What on earth do you have to apologize for? We haven’t heard hide nor hair from you since Rachel’s wedding. You vanished.”
“You mean he hasn’t told you? Oh god, I just assumed—“ Her voice rises again as Kurt presses the phone against chest and turns, slowly, toward the kitchen table.
“Hmm?” Blaine hums back without taking the toast out of his mouth or looking away from the Style section in the Sunday Times.
“Is there something you were maybe going to tell me?”