Blaine woke early the next morning to his alarm blaring some cookie cutter pop tune on the radio. He shuddered involuntarily when he recognized it as his latest chart topper "Last Friday Night". He couldn't wait until Wes let him put out his own, real music.

Yawning, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stretched his arms up over his head. He climbed out of bed and headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth, shave, and attempt to tame his wild curls. After a valiant effort, he gave up, accepting the fact that his hair would be a bit messy today. He brushed a stray curl off of his forehead and walked back out to his bedroom. He got dressed quickly, deciding to travel somewhat casually in some dark jeans, cuffed at the ankle with a crème colored button down rolled up to the elbows and paired with some bone and toffee colored Oxfords.

He glanced at himself in the mirror in his walk in closet and was satisfied with his appearance. He would dress up a bit more to meet Kurt. He had a special bow tie picked out and everything. He stopped in the kitchen for a pop-tart before grabbing his satchel and suitcase, wheeling it behind him and into the elevator in the main hall of his pent house.

Once on the ground floor, Blaine was greeted by his driver, Tom, right on time as usual. With a nod and smile to Tiffany at the front desk, they were out the door. Tom loaded Blaine's suitcase into the trunk of the black Lexus, while Blaine climbed into the backseat. They drove to LAX in a companionable silence, stopping only for a medium drip and an insisted upon chai tea for Tom; who quickly learned that Blaine was just as stubborn as he was generous.

When they arrived, Tom tried to help Blaine with his bag, but Blaine insisted that he could handle it, and pulled it behind him into the airport, waving goodbye to Tom over his shoulder. He headed to the counter to pick up his ticket, looking left and right for Wes, who he was supposed to be meeting with at the gate. Keelie told him what airline he would be flying on, so he stood in line for the corresponding counter. When it was finally his turn, he was greeted by a perky brunette, whose nametag read ‘Carry'.

"Thank you for choosing American Airlines, can I help-"her eyes widened when she recognized him. "Ohmygosh! You're Blaine Anderson! I'm so sorry. I know this is unprofessional, but I'm a HUGE fan. Can I please have your autograph?!" Blaine laughed shyly. He still wasn't used to the attention and being noticed. "Of course." He said, flashing her a charming smile. She slid him a piece of paper and he wrote out a message; To Carry, Thanks for supporting my music and lighting up LAX with your smile... Sorry, that was cheesy. Oh God. I'm rambling on paper now. He stopped before he could embarrass himself further and signed his name, finishing it off with a smiley face. Blushing, he handed the paper back to her in exchanged for his ticket that she printed while he was writing. "Thank you so much!" she said before reading the message with a laugh. "Any time." He said with a shy smile. She tied a name tag to his suitcase and he headed to his gate.

 He saw Wes almost immediately, standing under the screen showing expected departure and arrival times. "You're late." He said in lieu of a greeting. "Well hello to you, too, Wesley." Blaine said with a chipper smile. "My morning was okay. I stopped to get some coffee with Tom. I signed an autograph for-"

"Blaine. I'm already weary of this whole thing. You're not even taking a bodyguard-"

"Wes," Blaine interrupted. "Calm down. Keelie said that everything would be taken care of, remember? Besides, I don't need a bodyguard." Blaine shrugged.

"Blaine, you have a platinum selling record. You need a bodyguard. And you sure do rely a lot on this Keelie girl. How you know this whole thing is even real is beyond me".

"Wes, you spoke with her. This thing is legit. They paid for everything, and-"

"I'm going."

"I-you're what??"

"I can't let you go alone. I bought my ticket last night. My bag is already checked."

Blaine glanced down and noticed Wes' black suitcase for the first time.

"I also boosted your ticket up to first class."

"Wes!"

"Blaine, as a Warbler, you're my responsibility. I'm going to accompany you, and we're going to fly comfortably."

Blaine opened his mouth to argue, but closed it again, weighing his options. Knowing that Wes was just as stubborn as he was, Blaine decided to just go with it this time. On one condition. "I'm meeting him alone." Blaine said, hoping that his determination shown in his hazel eyes.

Wes, a bit surprised at Blaine's reaction paused for a moment. It wasn't like him to accept something so easily. "What?" he asked.

"Kurt. When I go see him, I'm going alone. You're my manager, and I understand that it's your job to protect me. I'm still young, and you have more experience. I appreciate how much you care and do for me, Wes. So if you feel the need to accompany me, then fine. But, I'm meeting him alone."

Judging by his tone, Wes could tell that Blaine was adamant. "Fine." He nodded his consent, however grudgingly. Thank you for not arguing. Now come along, Blaine Warbler. The plane is boarding."

The flight went well. Blaine passed the time listening to music and occasionally jotting down some lyrics when the inspiration hit him. Wes, however, spent the entire time on his laptop; reading out their itinerary, and no doubt planning out some new venues for Blaine to play when they returned to LA. With one successful album out, they were testing the waters with the EP; seeing if Blaine had enough of a following to try another album. Wes knew Blaine wanted to release his own music, but it was too soon. If the EP went over well, they would release a second album and include two or three of Blaine's originals to try and get the listeners accustomed to the sound. It would take time, but Blaine was still the hottest new pop star around according to the magazines. They had plenty of time.

When the plane landed, Wes and Blaine headed to baggage claim to grab their luggage. When they had all of their things, they moved to the main entrance of the airport where they were greeted by a man in a drivers' uniform holding a sigh reading ‘B. Anderson'.

After some hellos, the trio walked to the car waiting for them in the parking garage. The driver-Adrian-informed them that they would be staying at the Westin hotel in Columbus, and a representative from the foundation would be meeting them in the hotel's restaurant to brief them on the meeting scheduled for the next day. After a short while, they pulled up in front of the hotel. Blaine thanked and tipped Adrian after signing an autograph for his daughter, while Wes disappeared into the building. Moments later, he reappeared holding an envelope.

"I checked us in. Don't worry, I got my own room." He said, handing Blaine his keycard. Waving goodbye to Adrian, the two headed inside, their suitcases in tow. They shared an elevator and found their rooms on the same floor, though on opposite sides of the hall and about three doors down from each other. They parted ways to get settled in, and planned to meet up in the restaurant downstairs at seven for dinner. Blaine slid his keycard and opened the door, closing it behind him. 

He set his suitcase down at the foot of the bed and, plopped down onto the soft mattress. He was a bit tired, but decided to stay awake to avoid jet lag. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked his email. He found a message from Keelie, confirming their dinner meeting. Mustering all of his energy, Blaine managed to pull himself up off of the bed. He unzipped his suitcase and began unloading his stuff and putting it in the dresser on the far wall of the suite. He knew they would only be staying for the weekend, but after returning from his first tour where he lived out of his suitcase for weeks on end, when a dresser was available, Blaine took advantage of it.

Once his clothes were put away, he entered the bathroom where he proceeded to line up his toiletries neatly on the marble sink. He left the bathroom and checked his watch. It was only five o'clock. He decided he could chance a little nap. It wouldn't throw off his sleep schedule that much.

Blaine woke up to a pounding on his door. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and glanced at the clock on the bedside table. 6:30. He hastily stood up and walked to the door, wrenching it open to reveal an agitated looking Wes, hand in the air, mid knock. "Blaine-"

"I'm sorry! I fell asleep. Just give me five minutes!" Blaine slammed the door shut before Wes could argue. He quickly walked to the bathroom and ran a hand through his hair, smoothing down the unruly curls until they looked presentable again. He gave himself a once over in the mirror. His clothes had slight crease marks from the day of travel and his nap, but it was nothing too bad or noticeable. He slipped on his shows and with a spritz of cologne, was out the door. Wes was waiting in the hall, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Blaine exhaled in relief when he noticed that Wes hadn't changed clothes either. Ignoring Wes' pointed look, Blaine brushed past him and pushed the call button on the elevator.

The restaurant in the hotel was nice; dimly lit overall but with a hanging lamp over each table. The atmosphere was calm, allowing the conversations going on in pairs and groups to be quiet and intimate. Wes gave their names to the pretty blonde maître d' and she led them to a small, round table in the back. They were seated with their drinks when another blonde head appeared at their table.

"Blaine Anderson?" She asked in lieu of hello. Blaine stood up and help out his hand. "You must be Ms. James. I'm Blaine, and this is my manager, Wes Montgomery." She shook his outstretched hand. "Pleased to meet you both." She answered, shaking Wes' hand before taking a seat. "The pleasure is all ours, Ms. James." Blaine answered returning to his seat. "Call me Keelie." She said, smiling politely. The waiter came with their drinks, ready to take their orders. When everyone rattled off what they wanted, the waiter took up the menus, promising to be back with Keelie's drink shortly. When her lemonade was dropped off, she started the conversation.

"Thank you for meeting with me tonight. As I'm sure you're aware, I just want to go over the plan for the visit. You will still be meeting the Hummel-Hudson clan tomorrow; however, there are some changes." She said, pausing to sip her lemonade before continuing. "Changes?" Wes asked wearily. "You are no longer going to be meeting at the hospital, here in Columbus." She said, looking carefully from Wes to Blaine and back again.

Wes raised his hand a bit. "May I ask why, exactly?" he said, quirking an eyebrow. Keelie nodded. "Of course; you see, Mr. Hummel-Kurt-he refuses to, quote, ‘meet his most recent favorite teen pop icon in a setting as dreary as a hospital, wearing a hospital gown that wouldn't even be able to pass as an ugly bed sheet'." She said, using air quotes, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Blaine was grinning as well, though Wes, as per usual, had his face set in his business mask.

"So, where does he was want meet Blaine, exactly?" he asked, his tone careful. "Well," Keelie began, "he said that if you had to be in Ohio, you may as well meet in the only truly decent and classy-yet understated-place there is." Wes' brow furrowed. "And that place would be?"

"The Hummel-Hudson home, of course."

It was almost ten o'clock before Blaine finally made it back to his suite. Keelie and he had gone over the schedule for the next day while they ate. Blaine was going to meet Kurt around noon, as the doctor insisted that Kurt stay one more night for supervision, and Kurt insisted on extra time to get ready (like he would meet anyone with hospital bed head and smelling of generic hand sanitizer) Blaine laughed aloud at that one.

A car was scheduled to pick Blaine up at eleven. He would meet Kurt at his home in Lima, where they would have lunch.

Blaine would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous. He kicked off his shoes and peeled off his clothes, tossing them into a pile in his empty suitcase. He entered the bathroom and turned on the shower, letting the water warm up before climbing in. He rolled his shoulders and let his head fall forward, his chin nearly touching his chest. He let out a sigh, reaching up and massaging his temples, yearning for his headache to fade. Naturally, after Keelie left, Wes had pitched a fit over him meeting Kurt at his house. 

"It's dangerous, Blaine. What if he's some stalker?"

 Blaine had to fight tooth and nail to prevent Wes from calling the whole thing off.

"And how would that look, Wes? I can see it now ‘Pop Star Blaine Anderson Refuses a Fan their Dying Wish'" Blaine had shuddered at the last part.

"I'm coming with you," Wes stated, arms crossed and jaw set.

Not that had been a battle.

Blaine shook his head to clear it, letting all thoughts of Wes and his anger spin down the drain. He washed his hair and body, rinsed off, and stepped out of the shower, turning the water off and toweling off. He padded back into the room and over to the dresser where he pulled out a pair of sweats, tugged them on, walked over to the bed. He flopped down, and let out a soft groan. He plugged his phone into the charger and set an alarm before setting it down on the bedside table. He switched off the light and closed his eyes. He didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but as he willed his body to relax, he couldn't help but wonder about Kurt. If anything, Blaine knew that he was funny. His conversation with Keelie had revealed that much. He wondered if he could get Kurt to laugh. He hoped so. He also wondered what Kurt would be like, what his hobbies were, and if they would have anything in common. All Blaine was sure about as he drifted off to sleep, was that he couldn't wait to find out.