Blaine hit the road just before dawn that June morning—one week to the day after graduation. He turned onto the highway heading east, his old Volvo packed to capacity (and then some) with everything he would need to start his new life in New York.

New York. It hardly seemed possible. His dreams of being in the big city, of starting classes at NYADA, and of being with Kurt were finally so close he could almost taste them. He adjusted his visor and slipped his sunglasses on to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun now rising over the eastern horizon. His '80s playlist shuffled to Timbuk3's "The Future's So Bright, (I Gotta Wear Shades)." Blaine smiled and turned up the volume, delighted by the serendipity of the moment. The future was bright, indeed.

Kurt watched the intersection expectantly, his anticipation growing every time the light changed and a new wave of cars rolled toward him. Finally, FINALLY he spotted Blaine's green Volvo heading in his direction. Kurt smiled and waved excitedly— catching Blaine's attention and directing him to the prized parking spot he'd been fiercely guarding for the last 45 minutes. It was a mere block-and-a-half from his apartment building—so they wouldn't have far to haul Blaine's belongings.

Kurt enveloped Blaine in an excited hug the moment he extracted himself from the driver's seat. "You're here! You're finally here!" Kurt squealed. "I can hardly believe it!"

"Oh, believe it!" Blaine laughed. He pulled Kurt closer and kissed him soundly on the lips. "I'm here, in the flesh—" kiss, "and I'm never—" kiss, "going to stop—" kiss, "kissing—" kiss, "my amazing—" kiss, "boyfriend!" KISS.

Giggling, Kurt smacked Blaine's shoulder and pulled back just enough to be out of range of the ardent shower of affection. "Stop! We'll have plenty of time for that later." Blaine's eyebrows shot up expectantly, causing Kurt to burst into giggles once again, before sobering. "No, seriously! We want to get your stuff upstairs to the loft before we lose the daylight." His voice slipped into his lower range, eyes sparkling with the promise of things to come, "Then we can focus on giving you a proper welcome to the
Big Apple."

Blaine's face broke into a wide grin. "Well, in that case— lead on, Macduff!"

***

The evening waned as the boys dragged the last box up the stairs to the fourth-floor loft. Even without the sun, the sultry heat of day lingered, and they were grateful for the escape into the air conditioning. Blaine busied himself unpacking a few essentials while Kurt showered, then took his turn to get cleaned up while Kurt pulled together some stacked "gourmet" turkey sandwiches, chips and grapes for supper.

Kurt carried two loaded dinner plates over to his bedroom as Blaine came out of the bathroom dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants, still toweling his damp hair dry.

"Oh! I didn't even realize how starved I was until you came in. Can't wait to devour that!" Blaine exclaimed, his eyes widening almost comically large. He walked over to Kurt, taking a plate from him with one hand as his free hand slipped around his boyfriend's waist, eyes darting down to the sandwich. "And look, you brought food too."

"You are such a dork," Kurt said, fondly kissing Blaine's cheek, then shoving a grape into said dork's mouth.

"Buh you lub me," Blaine said, grinning as he chewed.

"Yes, my folly that," Kurt sighed.

They sat together on the bed, cross-legged, balancing their plates on their laps.

"Gahd, Kuhrt," Blaine said, his words muffled around his mouthful of food. "Dhis ish AHMASHING! Wha dhid you puht"— he swallowed—
"in that sauce?"

"Secret recipe of my own creation— though I will admit it's modeled
on this horseradish dip from a little bistro Isabelle took me to last month." He licked some sauce from his own fingers. "You like?"

Blaine nodded enthusiastically. "It really makes the flavor of the turkey pop."

"Glad to know my efforts are appreciated," Kurt smiled. He regarded the small mountain of boxes and bags they had unloaded from the car as he chewed for a moment, then said, "Is this everything from your room?"

"Most of it," Blaine replied. "There's still a couple of boxes' worth of things from my bookshelves and such." He wiped his mouth with his napkin before continuing. "Mom said she'd ship them to me next week. The 'green monster' only holds so much."

"I'm amazed you got as much in as you did," Kurt said.

"I'm just glad I didn't have to bungee down the back hatch," Blaine laughed. "Mom was already freaking out that I might not be able to see all my mirrors."

Kurt looked at Blaine for a moment, then asked, "Your mom handling the whole 'youngest son leaving the nest' thing okay?"

"Oh, she's a typical mom—excited to see me 'spread my wings' all while not wanting to see me actually go."

Kurt hummed in response, then waited a beat before speaking again. "And— your dad?" he asked, his tone light but careful.

Blaine shrugged. "Dad is... dad. You know what he can be like sometimes."

"Did he at least see you off?"

"Left on a business trip to L.A. two days ago... so, no."

"Oh, Blaine," Kurt said softly as he reached across the bed to take Blaine's hand in his.

Blaine looked down at their entwined fingers and sighed. When he looked up again, his expression brightened. "Your father, on the other hand," Blaine said, getting up from the bed to rummage through a sack on top of the pile, "stopped by last night. Gave me a patented 'Burt Hummel bear hug' and strict orders to look after you."

Kurt snorted and rolled his eyes.

"And these—" Blaine pulled a large plastic container triumphantly from the sack and presented it to Kurt, "are from Carole, for you."

Kurt cracked open the lid, the sweet smell of coconut and chocolate wafting up and alerting his senses before the lid was even all the way off. "Ohhhhh—her famous chocolate macaroons! We are dining in style tonight!"

He scooped up two cookies and handed them to Blaine, then took two more to put on his own plate. "I can never get mine to taste as good as hers, even working from the same recipe. She says its because she adds an extra cup of 'motherly love'."

"I believe it," Blaine said and popped a whole cookie into his mouth at once— eliciting a look of disapproval from Kurt.

"Neanderthal," Kurt huffed. "These exquisite things must be relished for the ambrosia that they are.

"Yes, sir!" Blaine coughed, choking a little as he swallowed too quickly. Looking around Kurt's bedroom, he gestured to the corner of the room with a shrug of his elbow as he shifted his plate, "That's something new since I was here last."

"Oooh!" Kurt got up from the bed and walked over to the large, battered wardrobe in the corner. "THIS," he says with a spokesmodel flourish that would make Vanna White proud, "was retrieved from the sidewalk outside the NYADA dorms after spring semester ended. Really just a step above IKEA in quality, but it's big and it was free." He opened the top doors wide to display the inside. "It's little rough around the edges and seriously in need of a new paint job, but serviceable. I've cleaned it up some already, but see—" Kurt gestured as he described his plan— "It already has lots of great shelves and a bar across this side for hanging things. We can get baskets to use in lieu of drawers. Once we paint it, we can add a few embellishments to cover the worst of the dents on the outside. It's still a work in progress, but soon, voilà— it will be a beautiful, like-new armoire to store all your clothes!"

Blaine's eyes traveled up and down the wardrobe admiring Kurt's resourcefulness. "Kurt Hummel, gourmet chef, fashion savant, restorer of furniture, and soon-to-be-star of Broadway. Is there anything you can't do?"

"Nope," Kurt said. "I am Just. That. Fabulous." He shut the wardrobe doors and turned to face Blaine again. "You are lucky I can rock the shabby/chic furnishings vibe like nobody else. Tomorrow we can work on it some more, and soon we'll have a lovely new home for all your handsome Brooks Brothers cardigans, blazers and button-downs here. But for now, to bed."

"I seem to recall you made me a promise about 'other activities' once we got the car unpacked," Blaine pouted, "and now you're telling me I have to go to sleep?"

"Who said anything about sleep?" Kurt purred. He closed the distance between the wardrobe and the end of the bed in two long strides. Blaine barely had time to shove his empty plate onto the nightstand before Kurt pounced in one graceful, flying leap.