Saturday, 9:39 a.m. - 4:43p.m.  

New York

The bar was so different during the day.

Instead of the loud, steady thump of a techno beat and sweaty, half-naked men grinding against one another between drinks, soft jazz played at a volume comfortable for conversation while the patrons ate brunch and chatted like civilized human beings.  

Kurt smiled as he placed two fresh mimosas neatly on cocktail napkins in front of the young couple at the bar.  Normally Kurt preferred to bartend at night, but Trent had allowed him to pick up the morning shift so that he could get his hours in and leave for his trip with Blaine while it was still light out.

“You boys are a little young to be smoking, aren't you?” Kurt asked lightly, glancing at the pack of Parliament Lights next to one of the napkins. “Ruins your sex drive."

The boy closest to the pack rolled his eyes as if being lectured by his mother.  “I've been trying to get him to quit,” his boyfriend said with a sigh and a shrug.

Kurt felt his own smile widen as Trent walked toward him brandishing Kurt's cell phone, signifying break time.  Trent was easy-going enough as a boss, but he did insist that all employees leave their cell phones in a fish bowl in his office when they were on the clock.  Kurt understood, but it didn't stop his texting finger from getting itchy throughout his shift.  There were always so many things that he saw and heard that no one but Blaine would really appreciate.

Kurt walked out back entrance to the bar with his phone, and lit a cigarette after he dialed.  He leaned back against the cool brick of the exterior building, a familiar warm twist invading his belly as his best friend answered the phone.

“Hey there, little housewife, how's tricks?”

Blaine laughed softly.  “The fact that I work from home does not make me a housewife, Kurt.”

“Yeah?  Someone should tell your husband that,” Kurt muttered.  “You all packed?” He added quickly before Blaine could start to defend Dave.  “We are out of here tonight!”

“Yeah, I just...um...I still have to ask Dave if I can go,” Blaine admitted.

Kurt closed his eyes and took a deep drag on his cigarette.  He exhaled with a heavy sigh.

“Blaine.”

“I know, Kurt, okay?  I just...he's been so busy lately, and he likes having me home when he-”

“For god's sake, Blaine, is he your husband or your father?” Kurt snapped.  “It is just for two days.  I'm sure he'll manage to order his own takeout while you're gone.”

Blaine just sighed.  He sounded so tired.

“Tell him you're going with me,” Kurt added, trying to lighten the mood.  “Tell him I'm having a nervous breakdown.”

Blaine snorted.  “That won't carry much weight with Dave, he already thinks you're completely insane.  Um...are you at work, Kurt?”

Kurt took one final drag before stamping his cigarette out with his heel.  “No.  I'm calling from Anna Wintour's penthouse.”

“I'll call you right back,” Blaine said hurriedly.  Kurt rolled his eyes.

~000~

Blaine ended the call with the small wave of sadness that always seemed to wash over him when he had to get off the phone with Kurt.  Their conversations were the best part of Blaine's day without fail.

“Dave?” Blaine called, pulling Dave's favorite travel mug out of the cabinet and filling it with fresh coffee.  “Dave, you'd better hurry if you don't want to be late!”  Blaine added a healthy splash of soy milk to the mug before securing the lid.

Dave walked into the kitchen, already radiating intense irritation.  “Damn it, Blaine, how many times do I have to tell you not to holler like that? You know I can't stand to hear your voice hollering at me first thing in the morning!”

Blaine forced his face into some semblance of a smile as he reached up to give Dave a quick peck on the lips and straighten his collar.  “I'm sorry, babe.  I just don't want you to be late.”

Dave grunted and took the travel mug from Blaine's hand.

“Um...Dave?” Blaine asked nervously.

“Hmm?” Dave replied, focused on typing something into his cell phone.

Blaine swallowed.  “Have a good day at work,” he said weakly, cursing his own cowardice.

“Thanks,” Dave muttered, not looking up from what he was doing.

“Um...sweetie?”

Dave let out a loud, exaggerated sigh.  “What?”

Blaine let his gaze fall to the floor.  “Do you want anything special for dinner tonight?”

“No, Blaine, I don't give a shit what we have for dinner,” Dave snapped.  “I may not even make it home for dinner tonight.  You know how weekends  are.”

Blaine's posture stiffened.  Yes, he knew exactly how weekends were.  Especially since that willowy twink with the fantastic ass had started answering phones at the dealership in the evenings.

“It's funny how many people want to buy a car at nine o'clock on a Saturday night,” Blaine mused, unable to keep a trace of bitterness out of his voice.  “You'd almost think they'd want to forget about it for the weekend, wouldn't you?”

Dave gave Blaine a hard look.  “Well, then,” he responded icily, “It's a good thing you're not regional manager, then, and I am.”

Blaine had to fight not to roll his eyes in an incredibly Kurt-esque manner.

Dave took a sip of his coffee, then ran to the sink to spit it out, his eyes wide with anger.  “God damn it, Blaine, did you put that fucking soy shit in here again?”

Blaine swallowed, backing away slightly.  Dave could look downright menacing when he was angry.  “I just...it's your cholesterol, Dave.  The doctor said...”

“Fuck that dyke!  What does she know anyway?  Do I look like I have a fucking vagina?  Stop being such a goddamned fag and get me some cream from the fridge.”

Blaine froze.  “Dave, you know I hate it when you use that word.”

“Well, stop acting like such a limp-wristed nancy and I won't have to,” Dave sneered, getting the cream from the fridge himself and refilling his mug.  “I swear, Blaine, you're spending way too much time with Hummel.  He's starting to rub off on you.”

And with that, Dave headed out the door, shaking his head and continuing to mutter to himself. He didn't look at Blaine or even say goodbye.

Blaine stood in the kitchen and blinked back tears, his hands balled into fists at his side.  He would not cry.  He wouldn't.  It wasn't like this was particularly unusual behavior.  And really, he probably shouldn't have put the soy milk in there, he was just trying to...

He closed his eyes and heard Kurt's voice ringing in the back of his mind.  “How long are you going to keep making excuses for him, Blaine?”

Blaine opened his eyes and took a deep breath, wiping the tears that had inevitably escaped from his cheeks.  He picked up his phone and dialed.
                                                                                     

~000~

Kurt heard Trent pick up the bar phone as he finished mixing a bloody mary.  

“Good morning, Songbirds Bar and Grill...why yes he is.  Is this Blaine?   Blaine, sweetheart, when are you gonna run away with me?”

Kurt quickly set the drink down in front of the woman who had ordered it, rushing over to grab the phone before Trent could fluster Blaine too badly with his relentless flirting.

“Not this weekend, honey,” Kurt cut in, prying the phone from his boss's hand.  “This weekend he's running away with me.”  Trent sighed and shook his head, grabbing a couple of menus and heading over to where two new patrons had just walked in the door.   

Kurt smiled as he settled the phone against his ear.  “So.  What did he say?”

“What time are you picking me up?” Blaine asked, and Kurt could hear the smile in his voice.

Kurt glanced at the clock.  “How about 4:30?  I'm sure Trent will be enough of a sweetheart to let me leave when Brittany gets here,” Kurt added, batting his eyelashes at Trent playfully as he joined Kurt behind the bar.  Trent rolled his eyes but nodded his assent, filling two water glasses to hand to one of the waitresses.

“What kind of stuff should I bring?” Blaine asked, biting his lip.  He didn't travel often, and his modern Williamsburg apartment didn't have much to sustain him outside of a distinctly urban setting.

“I don't know...warm clothes?  It's supposed to be cold in the mountains.  I'm just going to bring everything,” Kurt answered with a shrug.

“OK.  I will too, then”.

“Oh!  And steal Dave's fishing stuff.”

Blaine wrinkled his nose.  “You want to go fishing?”

“The cabin is on a lake in the mountains, Blaine,” Kurt answered, as if he were explaining a simple math problem to a slow child.  “Of course we're going fishing.  You know – male bonding and all that.”

Blaine grinned.  “But I don't know how to fish.”

“Well neither do I, Blaine, but Dave does it, so how hard can it be?  Look, I have to get back to work, Trent's giving me a look.  I'll see you this afternoon.”

“OK,” Blaine agreed, excitement rising in his voice.  “I'll see you then.”

“When are you two just going to fuck already?” Trent asked when Kurt hung up the phone.

“I'm not even going to dignify that with a response,” Kurt said airily.  “You know it isn't like that between Blaine and me.”

Trent muttered something along the lines of “just keep telling yourself that.”  Kurt chose to ignore it.

~000~

Kurt hummed along with the radio softly as he finished packing for the trip after work.  It had been far too long since he and Blaine had spent any real quality time together despite talking every day, and he couldn't wait.  Maybe getting him out of the city, out of that damn gorgeous apartment where he lived like a near-prisoner, would allow him to finally open up his eyes and-

Well.  Kurt had been hoping to see Blaine summon enough of a backbone to leave Dave for close to five years now.  There was no reason to believe that a long weekend in the mountains would do anything to change that, but at least it was something.  And if nothing else, at least Kurt got his friend back for a little while.

Kurt knew that Dave hated seeing he and Blaine spend time together.  He was fully prepared for his phone to ring and Blaine to tell him that he couldn't go after all, and Kurt was not ashamed to admit that he was packing perhaps twice as fast as usual in an effort to outpace such an inevitability.  Dave was far too paranoid and insecure to allow Blaine to leave the city without him for the most part, and there was also the fact that Dave hated Kurt.  He hated him.

It wasn't just because of Kurt's “bad influence” on Blaine, either.  Kurt knew it had a lot to do with the fact that Dave had gone after Kurt first, only pursuing Blaine after being flatly rejected.  It also, in all probability, had to do with the fact that Dave had gotten drunk and kissed Kurt at a Christmas party two years earlier.  Kurt told Blaine about it immediately, and it was the closest Blaine ever came to actually leaving Dave.

But he didn't leave.  Not even after that.

Kurt finished his packing and called for a cab to take him to the storage facility where he kept his car.  He knew it was stupid to hold onto it, especially given how expensive it was to store it in the city.  But it had been his father's pride and joy, a mint-condition 1969 black Camaro convertible, and Kurt couldn't bear to part with it.  It also made him feel absolutely amazing to drive it on the rare occasion when he took it out of the city.

Kurt texted Blaine at a red light when he was five minutes away, and he nearly hit a fire hydrant, he was laughing so hard when he finally pulled up in front of Blaine's building.  Blaine was struggling to hold four enormous bags, a giant kerosene lantern, two fishing poles, and a length of industrial-strength extension cord.

“Are you having a sidewalk sale?” Kurt called to him.  “Because I thought we were planning to go away for the weekend.”

Blaine rolled his eyes, stumbling to catch one of the fishing poles as it teetered over, dropping two bags in the process.

“Are you going to come help me or are you just going to sit there and mock?”

“Mocking is a very undervalued art form,” Kurt sniffed, but smiled fondly at his friend and cut the engine, smoothly leaping over the side of the car to join Blaine on the sidewalk.

Blaine handed him the lantern, and Kurt nearly dropped it when it turned out to be about five times heavier than what he was expecting.  “Blaine, the place may not have wifi, but it does  have electricity.  I really don't think we'll be needing this.”

Blaine shrugged and watched Kurt begin to carry the lantern back toward the building.  “Wait, no, I want to bring it anyway,” he blurted.  “Just in case.”

Kurt arched an eyebrow so high it nearly disappeared into his hairline.  “In case of what?”

“In case...I don't know...there's a mass breakout from whatever maximum security federal prison is nearby, because it's the mountains of West Virginia and you just know there's probably one in the general proximity, and a bunch of ax murderers and...and gay bashers are on the loose and they come to the cabin and cut off the electricity and try to kill us.”

Kurt stared at Blaine for a long, long moment.  “Sure, Blaine,” he conceded finally.  “If that happens, I'm sure we'll find this lantern extremely helpful.”

Kurt ended up throwing the lantern in the backseat – as much to avoid hauling it back up the stairs to Blaine's apartment as to placate Blaine.  Kurt turned around to see Blaine behind him, his small frame all but buried beneath the sea of belongings hanging off of him.

“You're like that hoarder muppet from Labyrinth,” Kurt laughed, taking the fishing pole and one of Blaine's bags.  They finished loading up the car, and Kurt stopped Blaine before climbing in.

“Not so fast.  This is the first time I've actually gotten you to leave the city in the eight years that I've known you, Blaine.  This calls for photographic documentation.”  

Blaine grinned.

Kurt reached into one of his duffel bags and carefully pulled out a linen pouch, from which he withdrew the antique Polaroid camera he had brought.  Blaine's eyes widened in pleasure – he loved old gadgets; cameras and record players and radios in particular.  Seeing Blaine's face light up was, admittedly, one of the reasons Kurt had brought the Polaroid along instead of just using the camera on his phone.

Kurt flushed when he realized his own subconscious motivation for bringing the camera, but he tried not to think on it too deeply.  Friends did things like that, right?  Friends made little gestures just to see each other smile....

Right?

It wasn't as if he was still pining or anything.  He'd gotten over that years ago.

He had.

Hadn't he?

Kurt shook his head to clear it as Blaine crowded in close.  Kurt pressed their cheeks together and held up the camera, their smiles almost too wide for their faces, waiting for the perfect moment to take a perfect shot.