Ten hours hadn’t seemed like that long of a car trip. After all, Blaine and his family had gone much farther distances when he was younger; twenty-hour treks to Houston for medical conferences, thirteen to Minneapolis for art exhibitions.

But those trips had been before Blaine was able to drive. They also didn’t have the singular experience of Rachel belting show tune after show tune in the passenger seat. Blaine loved Rachel a lot, but there was only so much Yentl Blaine was willing to listen to before he was ready to snap. It had been four hours and Rachel was still pulling Streisand playlists from her iPod, which shouldn’t have been surprising given Barbara’s history, but still. They had listened to Barbara for the first half of the trip the day before, up until evening set in and they had to stop for the night at a motel so they didn’t worry their parents. Then there was Barbara in the shower. And Barbara as an alarm tone. And Barbara during Rachel’s wake-up routine.  It was time for something different— dub step, Gregorian chanting, choruses of screaming cats—something, anything other than another show tune or power ballad. Blaine loved a good showstopper as much as the next guy, but Rachel’s fanaticism was a little ridiculous.

Actually, her obsession with Barbara was a lot like Blaine’s with Kurt, except Barbara had been alive for a lot longer. Blaine took a second to ponder that, tuning out Woman in Love for a few blissful moments.  Meeting someone at McKinley who followed a celebrity very closely was probably a reason Blaine took to Rachel almost instantly when he moved to Lima two years ago. That and the fact that she dragged him to the choir room to audition for Glee club once she heard him singing to himself in the library. It had been the beginning of a boisterous, if not somewhat dysfunctional, friendship between the two of them. Rachel had her male lead that could keep up with her vocally, and Blaine had a place to belong, even if a public school glee club wasn’t quite the place Blaine’s parents wanted him to belong.  They actually hadn’t wanted Blaine to go back to public school after his dad was hired as Lima General’s C.E.O., but Blaine wasn’t too keen on being enrolled at the private school his parents had in mind (and Dalton wasn’t too keen on having another Anderson boy grace their hallowed halls anytime soon; reputations preceded one Blaine Frederick Anderson that no amount of exemplary behavior on Blaine’s part would be able to completely erase.)

It was a good thing Blaine had met Rachel. She helped him with his confidence in being himself, and her dads were Blaine’s role models. He wanted to find someone who could be the Leroy to his Hiram someday, and he knew his chances for finding that one person were excellent in New York, which was rapidly approaching in the windshield.

Rachel gave another squeal of excitement and sang a little louder. Blaine squared his shoulders and prepared for the final push into the Big Apple.

There it was. The Holland Tunnel. Roughly 9,000 feet and Blaine and Rachel would officially be in the city they had dreamed about for years.

The sign at the tool booth was intimidating, big block letters atop towering columns large enough to let trucks through. The lanes were loaded down with traffic; cars, trucks, vans, the occasional tour bus. It seemed ridiculously crowded for a Saturday afternoon, but Blaine didn’t know anything about traffic here. He also didn’t know how they were going to make it to the car park, what with Rachel practically bursting out of her skin, gawking at the skyscrapers and chattering, her phone with the directions to the car park laying forgotten on her lap.

“Focus, Rach. You won’t be able to unleash yourself on New York if we never make it to the Garage.” Blaine readjusted his hands on the steering wheel, maneuvering carefully as the road began its slow descent underground.

“But it’s going to be so amazing when we get there! I think the first thing we should do, after finding our hotel of course, is go straight to Times Square and see what’s playing this week. Or maybe we should go straight to the street performers and see what they can do as far as talent—”

“Or we could check in like we promised we would.” Blaine interrupted. Rachel was famous for jumping the gun when she got excited, which she was definitely was at the moment. Hopefully Blaine’s reminder about their promises to their parents would be enough to stop her chattering about plans; it was hard enough trying to maneuver the narrow lanes, although the promise that nobody was going to cut him off was a big stress reliever.

That didn’t stop the next three and a half minutes from being the longest Blaine had ever encountered. The tunnel was the last thing separating him from thirty days with his best friend in the city they’d only dreamed about. . It was the moderately lit, tile-covered space-block between Blaine and Madison Square Gardens. It separated Blaine from Kurt Hummel’s stomping ground.  The stores Kurt shopped at. His apartment. His recording studio and all the places he rehearsed and had the potential to be at any given time.

Not that Blaine was worried about any of those things. Definitely not.

He sat impatiently, tapping out an anxious rhythm on the steering wheel while he kept an eye on the traffic, which seemed a lot more likely to stomp the brakes than he’d seen for most of the trip. They sat, Rachel leaning forward until she was practically laying on the dashboard, watching the walls in front of them and trembling with so much energy Blaine was surprised she hadn’t exploded yet. Her eyes were trained straight ahead, watching for the shift of light from the fluorescent to natural, until they drove out and came face to face with—

“New York City,” They breathed together, glancing at each other out of the corner of their eyes and grinning like idiots.

The worst part of New York was the traffic.

Cars were everywhere, lining the streets in front of brownstones and apartments, and clogging the streets in their hustle to hurry up and wait at the next intersection. At least the car park was far enough away from the center of the city that pedestrians weren’t a terrible problem. There was the occasional group of kids wandering the sidewalks, but other than that, it was pretty clear. Apart from the many cars headed in the same direction Blaine and Rachel were.

The best part of New York traffic was that cars sat still long enough for Blaine to fire off a couple of text messages. At the next standstill, Blaine pulled his phone from the console so see that he already had messages.

Sparky McFlashpants [3:22pm]: where are you, tiny dancer?

Blaine bristled as he typed his reply. He wasn’t that tiny anymore.

Blainers [3:34pm]: On white street. There soon, loverboy.

Sparky McFlashpants [3:34pm]: k.

Sparky McFlashpants [3:35pm] wait, is the shrill one driving?

Sparky McFlashpants [3:35pm] are we gonna have to have a talk blainers?

Sparky McFlashpants [3:37pm] BLAINE!

Blainers [3:40pm]: nope. Gridlocked. I think someone hit a bike messenger there are packages *everywhere*

Sparky McFlashpants [3:40pm]: well shit.

Blainers [3:41pm]: I was kidding. But we’ll be there as soon as we can. Listen for Rachel; she’s gonna start singing at pedestrians here soon I can feel it.

Sparky McFlashpants [3:42]: fantastic. Waiting with baited breath.

Sparky McFlashpants [3:42]: and earplugs.

Blainers [3:43]: good man.

Blaine slid his phone back into the console and pulled Rachel back from her window, where she was singing snippets of “One Short Day” at a group of (very confused) dog walkers.

“We’re here for a month, not a day Rachel. Plus New York’s not all green. Is there another one you can sing?”

Rachel huffed and crossed her arms. “I was looking for a welcoming song full of promise and potential.”

“But don’t things go to Hell in a handbasket for Elphaba and Galinda in Oz?” He smirked good naturedly, looking for some kind of telltale sign for the car park. He thought they were on the right block, but then again, he wasn’t sure…Rachel opened her mouth to squawk something about Blaine’s ‘missing the true point of the song’, which he intercepted as he glanced anxiously out his window at the buildings around them.

“Anyway, I’m sure the message would have gotten across, if the Pomeranians had actually understood English. Could you keep an eye out for the garage? I don’t know which side of the street it’s on.”

Rachel pointed over the dashboard “I could, or we could just look for the flashy banner.”

Flashy banner? Blaine followed Rachel’s finger, brows rising in mortification.

“I’m going to kill him.”

There, leaning against a light pole, was a very large, very bright red poster with photos of Blaine during almost every single one of his awkward years—the trip to the coast when he was two and decided it would be fun to take off his swim trunks and streak the beach; Halloween the autumn before they moved to Lima when Blaine decided to dress like Jimi Hendrix; countless photos full of missing teeth, unruly curls, and unfortunate glasses. At the top, “Welcome to the Big Apple, Little Blainers!” blazed in metallic paint. And holding the poster was the man responsible for the majority of the photos of the poster, grinning cockily as Blaine turned into the car park. His threw his head back and laughed as Blaine, scowling, shot him the bird when they rode past.

Cooper Anderson was nothing if not a good sport. Either that or a terrible prankster, Blaine had always figured. For all that he was almost nine years older than Blaine, he had the energy of a five-year-old and the joke repertoire of a third grader. Blaine wasn’t surprised Coop had made a stupid welcome poster, in fact, he almost appreciated it. Almost.

But if there were any more short jokes directed at Blaine in the next hour or so he would take back most of the nice things he had thought about his brother since he agreed to be their contact during their trip.

Cooper was waiting for them at the edge of the sidewalk once they pulled their bags from the back of the wagon, self-assured smile still in place. He held out his arms to Blaine, but instead of going in for a hug, Blaine pushed him lightly in the chest.

“Did you have to find the baby pictures, Coop?”

"Of course. It’s in the job description: ‘entertaining your little brother? Embarrass the hell out of him, especially if you live in a major city.’ Now get over here and hug me.”

Blaine rolled his eyes before giving Cooper a tight hug, forgetting about the gel in his hair for long enough that Cooper began to squirm.

“Jesus, Blaine. There’s enough gel in there to make you stick to my shirt.” He pulled away, appraising Blaine from head to toe. “I would have said you’d stick to my chin, but you still aren’t tall enough to reach up there.”

“And the moment’s over. Come on Rachel, we’ll find the hostel on our own.” Rachel looked confused. Blaine was turning to leave, but he had the biggest grin on his face. “We’ll just have to tell your dads we couldn’t see Cooper over the heads of the tall people in the crowds or something.”

“Blainers, come on. I was kidding.”

“I know. Which is why I was walking to the subway station I saw over here.”

“Blaine?”

“Yes Rachel?”

“I’m pretty sure the subway stop is back the other way.”

"And I’m pretty sure there’s another stop down here somewhere.” Blaine stopped, looking up and down the street bemusedly.

“Technically, you’re both right,” Cooper conceded, “but there’s another stop a couple blocks over that’ll take us more where we want to go; and you really don’t want to get on the trains with your suitcases.  How about we flag down a taxi instead?”

Blaine was certain he and Rachel were going to get hopelessly lost in New York without Cooper there to show them the ropes. They had managed the taxi ride fine, cruising through the outskirts of Chinatown and into the East Village. Between the three of them they managed to find the youth hostel where they had reservations; they took a second to stow luggage before heading back out to find a restaurant. As they continued wandering the streets, Blaine kept getting turned around, distracted by a car horn or a random person calling to a friend down the street. It was frustrating. The city was so vibrant during the afternoons; Blaine wondered if he would be able to survive nights in the city.

Rachel was in her element, talking with Cooper about landmarks and plays she wanted to see, places she wanted to get into, and people she wanted desperately to meet. Blaine let her talk at his brother, who kept giving him dirty looks; He had been together with Rachel for nearly twenty-four hours—it was good that she was talking with other people.

After what felt like miles, Cooper finally settled on a quiet looking bistro, leading the teenagers inside and taking his cues from the waiters scattered around the dining floor.

“Looks like you two did a good job finding places to stay,” Cooper said over desert.

"It wasn’t too hard; there are a lot of places around here.” Blaine countered.

“Yeah, I’m sorry you guys can’t just stay with me. It’s just that the place is already so small with me, Adam, and Donovan…”

“Cooper we completely understand.” Rachel reached out to pat his hand consolingly. “Struggling artists have a hard enough time taking care of themselves. I would feel bad if I had to stay with you for the whole trip. And besides, Blaine and I get to try out living on our own for a while.”

“Not quite.” Cooper looked up and held out a finger. “Both sets of parentals set out some rules. And I’m not about to catch anybody’s grief for not giving you the rundown as soon as I had the chance.”

Blaine sighed tiredly. “We know them already, Coop.”

“Well, I’m telling you anyway. Now, mom, dad, and the misters Berry said you all have to check in with me every day. I’m gonna hold you to that, but it doesn’t have to be a face-to-face every day because I’m not going to want to see you because of different reasons. “

“Reasons like Moira.” Blaine smirked. Cooper had been going on about his latest girlfriend for months; it only made sense that she would stay…nearby…sometimes.

“Never mind about her. You can call or text with a general plan, and if you really want to meet we can over lunch when I’m not working or something. Every day. Got it?” they nodded.

“I’m not gonna set a curfew. You’re here to have a good time, and who am I to stop you? But if you’re going to be out way late, text me or something—and if mom or dad ask, tell them I told you 1am.

"And then the common sense rules. No talking to awesome and complete strangers, don’t go anywhere alone, and if a strange person offers you candy or something, run screaming in the opposite direction. Common sense is the main thing. If mom and the dads trust you to run around New York with me as a supervisor, they must know you can make smart choices.”

Mom and Dad especially, Blaine thought. They had to have known half the things Blaine got up to between the time he could understand what people were saying and the year Cooper left for college were Cooper’s fault. Of course, he had learned to never trust Coop ideas that started or ended with “what’s the worst that could happen?” so Blaine figured Cooper was right, at least this time.

“But other than that stuff, the city is your oyster, or some shit like that.” Cooper took a sip of his coffee, watching the two of them carefully. Rachel still looked ridiculously excited, as was Blaine, but he was having a hard time showing it because he was tired. The hours in the car were finally catching up to him, and the dinner sitting in his stomach wasn’t helping things, either. Blaine reached for his wallet to pay for his meal, but Cooper stopped him.

“I got it this time. You two get out of here. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He waved them away. It was all Blaine could do to follow Rachel’s thanks, give Cooper an awkward one-armed hug, and follow his friend out into the crowded street.

"Rachel, I know you probably have about a million and a half things you want to do tonight, but if I don’t get back to the hostel soon you’re going to be dragging around a lot of dead weight.” Blaine figured it was best to get his thoughts out there before she could get moving on the agenda she had no doubt been dreaming up all during dinner. “I mean, you can go out if you want to, but I can’t.”

“But it won’t be any fun without you,” she pouted, pulling out her best pleading eyes.

“It’s really not a good idea, Rach.”

She huffed, momentarily put out by the change in events. “Fine. But we’re waking up extra early in the morning to make up for it.”

That was fine with Blaine. Sleep was the most important thing right then.

Finding the hostel was a lot easier than Blaine had been anticipating; Rachel took to the streets like she was born to do it, and she probably was. They didn’t get turned around once, and for that Blaine was very very thankful. The cool air inside the hostel was a welcome change from the humidity that had been plaguing the city all day, but the best thing about the hostel was most definitely Blaine’s bed.

He sank into it and was asleep instantly, lulled by the quiet drone of Barbara as Rachel brushed her teeth in the tiny bathroom.