“Kurt, I’m having a crisis.”

Kurt popped his phone on speaker and tossed it onto his desk to finish boxing up his materials for his meetings. “A crisis? I thought everything was set and ready to go?”

“Oh, it is. Ade’s packed and yanking at my damn…seriously, dude. Go get a picture ready for Nana. You’re driving me bonkers…”

“You said we’d leave at 5-3-0 and it’s 5-FOUR-0.”

“Yes, it is. And we’ll leave in a few minutes. Out.”

Kurt kept packing, pulling tape across the split in the box and laughing at the two fools on the other end of the phone.

“Sorry. Crisis. In what the hell to pack for myself. And wear. And…how do you do this once a month?”

“Without a five-year-old, to start…”

“…well, yes, but did you tell me that you pack in about 10 minutes? I can’t even decide what shirt to wear on the plane in 10 minutes.”

“Pick a color.”

“What?”

“A color scheme. Grays, browns, blues, blacks, chartreuses if you’re feeling dangerous. Pick a color scheme, pack major pieces and add accents. Or not – you’ll be fine without them.”

“What’s yours?”

“I’m going with browns this time. Tan, ecru, linens…some earthy greens. Or maybe pink. Or…powder blue? I’ll decide when I pack.”

“Bah. I have some nice pieces here and there, but not a wardrobe like you do. I’ve gotten away with piecemealing for years.”

“Blaine, honey. Stop. Take Adrian to Findley. Call me when you’re almost back and I’ll meet you at your house to help.”

“I feel like an idiot.”

“You’re just trying too hard.” Blaine sighed and Kurt chuckled. “I need to get this stuff to Fed Ex or I’m going to beat it to New York and the world will implode.”

“What do people wear to shows in New York?”

“Take Adrian to Findley. It’s 5-4-FIVE.”

“But…”

“I’m hanging up, Blaine. Go. Get out and get back. I want your real breath in my ear, not the sound of it having an anxiety attack through a phone.”

“Oh. Nice call. I’m leaving. See you in a couple of hours.”

***

Blaine buckled himself into his seat and patted at his jacket pocket for his phone, his back pocket for his wallet, his head for a stray curl? and started to unbuckle to check his bag for his glasses. But, Kurt rested his hand on his wrist, firm yet soft and he stilled, breathing out only a hint of his pent up energy.

“Babe. I feel like I have Adrian with me. What’s up?”

“I’m a five year old now?”

“Don’t get sensitive. You’ve been fidgeting since we left my house.”

“I’ve remembered how much I hate flying. And I feel out of place. And like your puppy dog. And why in the hell are we sitting in first class?”

“First, it’s a two hour flight. By the time you get a good anxiety attack going, we’ll be landing. Second, you not only belong, you look amazing doing it. Third, you are not dog, you’re my boyfriend, so don’t start pooping in my shoes and finally, we’re in first class because Marc Jacobs seems to think I’m worth it.” Blaine tried to smile at Kurt’s attempts to quell his fears but even his soft kiss of reassurance, while helpful, didn’t ease his anxiety. “Let’s get a drink in you.”

“Maybe that’ll help. I mean, Jesus. I run into burning buildings, but this…” he motioned around him and shook his head. “…whole businessmen, white collar, college-educated, where to, Miss atmosphere is like the 7th ring of hell.”

“Was this a bad idea?”

“No. No, I’m sorry. Not at all.” Blaine breathed a sigh when the flight attendant approached, motioning for Kurt to order first.

“Manhattan on the rocks.”

Blaine shrugged and ordered the same, starting over when alone again. “Cute with the uh…Manhattan going to…”

“I ordered that my first flight back to New York after I turned 21. Now it’s just a good luck charm, I guess. Unless I toss back three in one flight.”

“We’ll stick to one this time.” Blaine took Kurt’s hand and kissed his fingers, unwittingly becoming their go-to move to bring scattered thoughts into focus. To each other. “I feel like…I’m on a space ship and we’re headed for another planet.”

“Ah, my love…that’s because we are.”

“If I really were a five year old, that would excite me.”

“Then maybe you should take a page from Adrian’s book. It is exciting. And insane. And yes, other-worldly. And we have four days and three more nights alone – last night was lovely, by the way – just you and me. If you get there and hate it, we can spend the entire weekend ordering take out and being naked. But I don’t think you’re going to hate it.”

“I don’t think you’ll let me.”

“I want you to love it. But, it’s not for everybody and that’s more than okay. Dad hates New York.” Blaine leaned his head back and took a few deep breaths as the slam of the galley door rang through the cabin. “Look, I just want to spend time with you. Eat good food. See a show. It doesn’t have to be this huge life changing experience…just an adventure.”

Their drinks arrived and they lifted them for a quiet toast. “To a grand adventure.”

“Adventure is out there!”

Blaine grinned and never let his eyes leave Kurt’s as they swallowed down the alcohol, warm and soothing, his heart steadying and reigniting in proper anticipation. “My god, Maggie would have loved you.”

***

“Can you take us in via Brooklyn Bridge rather than Williamsburg?”

“Yes, sir. It will take a little longer…”

“I know. It’s his first time here, and I just…”

“Ah, yes. Brooklyn Bridge it is.”

Blaine eyed Kurt suspiciously when he joined him in the back of their private car – seriously, a private car? – and chuckled when Kurt snooted his nose up in the air.

“What were you plotting out there?”

“Nothing concerning you.”

“Ah. That’s why you were both pointing inside the car.”

“New upholstery. He was telling me about it.” Blaine playfully glared and Kurt caved. “I asked him to go into the city via the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s just a nice voila moment.”

And it was. Blaine took in the scenery throughout the journey from the airport, his fingers resting in or tangling between Kurt’s all the way in. “It is another planet.” Nothing could have prepared him for the size of it all. Sure, Ohio had its skylines and he’d traveled to a few other big cities for work, but nothing compared to this. “So, is this the financial district over here?”

“Yeah. We’ll go by New York’s Supreme Court, cut the edge of Chinatown and then we’ll be in Soho.”

“And that’s where you live?”

“That’s where the company apartments and the offices are, yeah. I lived in West Village before I moved back.”

“You’re going to have to show me a map. I’m already confused.”

“You’ll be fine, but we’ll get a map. I carried one around with me the first month I lived here. Just don’t pull it out in public. New Yorkers eat tourists for breakfast.”

“At least I’m delicious.”

“Yes, but I’m the only one who gets to eat you for breakfast.”

Blaine soaked in every sight he could, the corporate bustle when they crossed the bridge, the touristy gaudiness of Chinatown, and before he knew it, the car stopped and Kurt was squeezing his hand to signal it was time to get out.

The concierge acknowledged them both by name, taking their luggage all the way into the bedroom. “Looks like you have some champagne and treats, gentlemen. Enjoy your weekend.”

Blaine looked around the beautifully appointed, albeit small apartment and shook his head. He was out of his league. Out of his mind. Way out of his comfort zone. Until, at least, he looked at Kurt, slipping his suit jacket off and draping it over the back of a chair. In him, he could feel at home anywhere.

“I’ve not stayed in this one before. I usually end up in a studio in back. Smaller windows and half the size.”

“This is beautiful.”

“Wait until dark. New York at her best.”

Blaine looked around, still a little nervous and pointed at the chilling champagne. “You do this?”

“No. The receptionist must have when I asked for a larger place…let’s have a drink before we go to the offices.”

They shared a drink, some cheese and bread and before Blaine could catch his breath, they were walking hand in hand to Kurt’s workplace, only a block away.

Once there, Blaine was introduced to so many people, his head was spinning. Kurt was clearly well known, highly respected and in great demand. It was such a departure from how he’d seen him in Ohio, a simple non-profit volunteer who happened to spend most of his time drawing, measuring, and sewing garments – a small town boy with a big town hobby.

But here? Here he was slick and smooth, generous with kindness, but firm with authority. “This looks great, but the roll of the collar needs to be more crisp.”

“Well, I changed the interfacing because I thought tha-…”

“No. That wasn’t the design. He’ll catch it. The collar frames the fa-…”

“…frames the face. Yes, I know.”

“Good. Fix it and I’ll check it before the review in the morning. Otherwise, nice work.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hummel.”

Kurt scanned over his team’s spec kits, giving directives to clean up details and specifications that were not up to the Marc Jacobs standard. A standard he had memorized, clicking off minute particulars like a trigonometry calculator.

With fluid grace, he turned off his critiquing eye and grabbed Blaine’s hand, taking him to the sample warehouse for a little shopping. With an introduction to an assistant and a quick kiss, Kurt disappeared into the offices for a few brief meetings.

It was awkward at first, just accepting that what he liked he could have, but after reassurances from the lovely assistant helping him find his way around, Blaine resigned himself and picked out a few pieces – a suit, some shirts, and accessories for himself and a couple of cute outfits for Adrian. Just when he was quadruple guessing an amazing jacket that was probably two seasons old – unknown to the average man on the street – Kurt returned and gasped.

“You’re getting that, right?”

“Thinking about it – it needs some alterations.” He swung the jacket on over his t-shirt and chuckled at the long sleeves. “I always look like a little boy trying on Daddy’s clothes.”

“I’ll tailor it for you – that color is amazing.”

“I’ve never had one this shade of green before.” He preened one more time in the mirror and watched Kurt evaluate the necessary nips and tucks to make the jacket fit like a new skin. “You done with your meetings?”

“Yes. I’m all yours until tomorrow.”

They arranged packing and shipping of Blaine’s loot and made their way through the halls to really get this trip underway. Blaine was busy rattling off some of the foods he’d decided he absolutely had to have during their short trip when Kurt’s grip tightened in Blaine’s hand.

“Oh, fuck.”

Blaine followed Kurt’s gaze, unaware of the problem until he saw him. A dark haired man around their age with an intentionally disheveled appearance. He sauntered up to them, smiling cockily at Kurt. And with that cocky smile, that jaunty walk, Blaine knew in an instant, without a name to go by, this was him.

Blaine’s stomach flipped and his heart picked up its pace, all the while his outside appearance exuded nothing but staunch confidence and friendliness. Chief Anderson, at your service.

Kurt kissed the man’s cheek, catching more air than skin, stiffening his back at his first words, whispered into his ear. “You haven’t called.”

“I didn’t know you were expecting me to.”

Blaine watched as hallway friendliness gave way to unspoken tension and suddenly, he wanted the hell out of there. He cleared his throat and prayed for a voice. “I’m just going to…did we pass a men’s room back there, Kurt?”

“No.” Kurt shook his head and looked at Blaine, his eyes softening. “I mean, yes we did, but no. Don’t leave.” Blaine didn’t really know what to do, so he stood there, waiting for a better cue. “Unless…” Kurt smiled and Blaine echoed it back. “…you really need to go, then by all means…”

Blaine relaxed and chuckled, this other…person…virtually disappearing. “No. I…we really need to work on our non-verbal cues, babe.”

“Yes. So.” Kurt stifled his giggles and narrowed his eyes again. “Mitchell. This is my boyfriend, Blaine Anderson. Blaine? Mitchell Campanello. A friend from college and a photographer here.”

“Mitchell.” Blaine reached out his hand and shook Mitchell’s firmly, insisting on eye contact, which was a bit of a chase as Mitchell was more interested in holding Kurt’s gaze. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Aren’t you two cute?” Mitchell looked Blaine up and down and Blaine found himself cinching himself closer to Kurt. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” With one more visual sweep down Blaine’s body, Mitchell launched a bomb. “How’s that son of yours?”

“Mitchell!”

“What? You told me he has a kid. I’m just being polite.”

While Kurt blustered, Blaine simply smiled. This man was an ass. “He’s very well, thank you for asking. Enjoying a long weekend with his grandmother, so I’m sure he’s having the time of his life.”

“Mmm…so, no mother in this twisted little Rockwellian picture?”

Blaine’s smile darkened, going from polite to sweetly judgmental with a simple dip of his head. “Only in memory, I’m afraid.”

Mitchell opened his mouth for another comeback, but his snarky Southern drawl had been momentarily silenced. “Kurt, this is why a phone call would have been nice…so I wouldn’t make an ass of myself.”

“I’m not sure a phone call from me would have prevented that from happening, Mitchell.”

“And here I was going to congratulate you on your conquest.”

Blaine took a step forward to…do…something? He didn’t even know, but instinct moved before sense. Fortunately for Kurt, sense was louder and he simply took Blaine’s hand and pointed toward the elevators. “Blaine, I believe we were heading out? Mitchell, I’d like to say it was good to see you…”

As they tried to pass without another word, Mitchell grabbed at Kurt’s arm. Blaine would have rather punched himself in the face than witness another moment between these two men, the years of…something between them was palpable. It wasn’t love, but it was a connection that had at one time been very good.

Without diverting his eyes from Kurt’s, Mitchell dared speak again. “Blaine?”

“Mmm?”

“Take good care of him.” He finally looked at Blaine, a slight air of humility ghosting over his cockiness. “He deserves nothing but the best.”

“That has always been my full intention.”

“Good. Kurt?” He kissed Kurt’s cheek with genuine tenderness. “Just be happy.”