Blaine woke early the next morning, an hour or so before his alarm was set to go off. He had had a rough night; tossing and turning restlessly, begging for sleep to find him. It never really did. He didn't mind so much, he wasn't really tired. His nerves prevented any feelings of sleepiness. If he was being completely honest, he was only upset because without sleep, time went by excruciatingly slowly.

He tried to clear his head, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, but it was no use. Thoughts of those blue eyes were inescapable. Giving up on sleep, Blaine pushed his blanket aside and climbed out of bed. He headed to the bathroom to shave, brush his teeth and fix his hair. When he was done, he walked over to his dresser and opened the drawer; pulling out the clothes he planned on wearing to meet Kurt.  He stepped out of his sweat pants and tossed them onto the bed, then started getting dressed. He was wearing a tight, black, short sleeve button up tucked into a pair of fitted, red Capri pants held up with a white belt. He slipped on a pair of dark loafers and smoothed down his shirt. When he was finished, he looked at his reflection in the mirror, adjusted his black, white and red striped bow tie, and flinched a bit at his hair. Perhaps he had been a bit too liberal with his gel. He couldn't help it. He was nervous, and everything had to be perfect.

When he was satisfied with his appearance, everything crisp and put together, he checked the time on his phone. He still had just over an hour until the car was set to take him to Lima. To pass the time, Blaine dialed the hotel's room service and ordered breakfast. Nothing big; just an omelet and some orange juice. Within 15 minutes, a knock sounded at the door. He opened it and a man in a hotel uniform pushed a cart into his room and stopped in front of the bed. Blaine watched as the man lifted the silver dome on the tray, uncovering his plate and revealing a fluffy looking omelet and a small fruit salad. After he was thanked and tipped, the man left the room. Blaine sat down on the bed and started his meal. He ate slowly to savor the food, but really just to burn some time. Not long after he finished his last bite, a piece of watermelon, there was another knock on the door.

He got up to answer it, and Wes barged past him, clad as usual in a nice, expensive looking suit.

"Good morning sunshine," Blaine said with a chuckle, closing the door. "Your car will arrive in about 20 minutes," Wes said, looking Blaine up and down. "Trying a bit too hard, aren't we?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. Blaine felt a blush rising in his cheeks as he self-consciously straightened his bow tie.

"I... just wanted to look nice," he mumbled.

"And you do," Wes ensured with a smile. "You look dapper and gentlemanly, as ever a Warbler should." Blaine's grin stretched ear to ear.

"Now, let's get down to business," Wes started, rubbing his hands together and sitting on the edge of Blaine's bed. "I want you to contact me when you get inside the Hummel-Hudson residence. Just sneak off to a bathroom and tell me if everything looks normal. I have their license plate numbers, address and home phone, just in case," he said, scrolling on his blackberry. Blaine had to keep his jaw from dropping. "You're having lunch there, so the car will be back to pick you up around 4 o'clock, to give you time to talk and what have you. Naturally, I'll be accompanying you for the ride there and back. We-"

"Whoa whoa whoa," Blaine interrupted. "Hold the phone. I'm getting there at noon and you're coming to pick me up at four?"  Wes only blinked, clearly unfazed.  "No way," Blaine stated. "That's hardly enough time for a proper visit!"

"Calm down, Blaine," Wes said, standing and putting a hand on Blaine's shoulder. "Fine. 5 o'clock, then," Wes appeased. Blaine shook off Wes' hand. "Wes, I don't mind you riding with me, or coming to get me, but when I get here, you'll drive away, and you won't return until I call you." Wes looked appalled, Blaine indignant. "What?! There's no way I'm leaving you there indefinitely!" Blaine sighed. "It's his dying wish, Wes. I'm going to stay until he's ready for me to leave." Wes gaped, his jaw slack and mouth hanging open. "Has all of that gel finally sunk into your brain?!"

 "I'm a grown man, Wes! I can take care of myself! If it bothers you so much, stay in Lima while I'm visiting him. That way, when I call to be picked up, you won't be far away." Wes opened his mouth to argue, but Blaine raised a hand to cut him off. "I know this sounds crazy, and dangerous, and... and irresponsible, but it's his dying wish, Wes. He had one thing to ask for in the entire world, and he chose me," Blaine paused, the gravity of the situation really setting in. "I owe him more than a 4 hour visit. Honestly, he deserves more than what he asked for, so I'm not going to short him on the one thing he wants." Blaine felt his stomach sink. Kurt really did deserve so much more than anything that Blaine could offer. He looked at Wes in the eye and willed him to understand. "I have to do this, Wes. Please, just... let me give him what I can. All I'm asking for is time. Time that I have, but he doesn't." For once, Wes didn't have an argument.

The ride to Lima was done mostly in silence, with Wes on his phone and Blaine looking out the window at the dull Ohio scenery passing by in a blur. It was 11:58 when they finally pulled up in front of the Hummel-Hudson home. Blaine took a deep breath and looked at Wes, who simply shrugged and motioned to the door.

"Be careful, call me when you're done, and... have fun, I suppose," Wes said, rubbing his temples. Blaine looked him in the eye. "Thank you, Wes." Wes merely sighed. "Just... not too late, and call me if anything happens. I'm trusting you, Blaine." Unable to control himself, Blaine leaned over and hugged his manager and friend. "I'll call you later," he said as he climbed out of the car and closed the door behind him. Heart beating frantically, he walked towards the house.

"Finn? Finn! He'll be here any minute and you're still upstairs! Get down here!" Kurt sighed when he heard Finn come barreling down the stairs. "Sorry dude, I was in the middle of a Call of Duty mission. Puck needed help getting past the-"

"Finn, as much as I enjoy hearing about your virtual adventures and numerous accounts of gory and unnecessary murder, I would greatly appreciate it if you saved the story and left." Finn simply shrugged his shoulders. "Okay man. I get it, you want the place to yourself when that dude gets here-"

Blaine."

"Huh?"

"Blaine. That ‘dude' has a name, and it's Blaine Anderson." "Sure, Blaine. Anyways, I'm just gonna grad a bite, and then I'll be outta your hair." Kurt stepped out of the way as Finn made his way to the refrigerator, grabbed some cheese sticks and a can of soda, and left the kitchen. "See ya Kurt!" he heard Finn yell before the door clicked shut.

With Finn out and his dad and Carole on an insisted upon date, Kurt had the house to himself for at least a few hours while he met his favorite pop star and ultimate celebrity crush, Blaine Anderson. Not only was Blaine extremely talented and handsome, but he was also out and proud. In Kurt's mind, he was a revolutionary. He didn't hide behind any rumors or lies; he was completely himself, and Kurt admired him for that. Being the only out kid at his school and possibly all of Lima, while also being constantly harassed and beaten, really took a toll on Kurt. Meeting someone so open and also from Ohio would definitely be refreshing. True, Blaine's lyrics were, at times, a bit ‘cookie cutter', but his music was still catchy, and his voice was amazing.

As Kurt tossed the salad and checked the chicken breast and risotto, his mind wandered. He couldn't help but imagine all of the things they would discuss and what they would do for the next few hours. However, Kurt's thoughts were cut short when a soft knock sounded at the door.

Blaine was nervously switching from foot to foot when the door finally opened, revealing the brilliant blue eyes that had been haunting his thoughts for days. They were even more beautiful in person. He was even more beautiful in person; his flawless skin milky pale, and his chestnut hair done up in a perfect swoop. Blaine's eyes roved over the other boy's impeccably dressed body. He had to stop himself from openly gawking at the perfectly fitted vest and sinfully tight pants that the boy-Kurt-was wearing. "H-hello," he breathed. "You must be Kurt. My name is Blaine. Blaine Anderson," he said, extending his hand. "I-uh- yeah, I'm Kurt. Kurt Hummel," he said, eyes shining as he shook Blaine's hand. Blaine smiled as tiny shocks flew up his arm from Kurt's touch. Was he imagining it, or did their hands linger? "Oh, how rude of me! Please, come in!" Kurt chirped, stepping aside and motioning into the house. With one glance back at Wes in the car behind him, he entered the house, excusing himself for "'accidentally' brushing up against Kurt as he went.

Kurt, trying not to swoon too visibly, used the door to rebalance his footing before walking beside Blaine and leading him into the kitchen. Blaine Anderson was in his kitchen! Kurt willed his mind to shut up and keep cool, but at the very sight of Blaine, gone were all of his snarky remarks and witty sarcasm. In their place was a bubbly feeling and constant butterflies. "Welcome to my home," he said lamely, motioning around him. "I was just finishing up lunch, so I hope you're hungry!" He said, perhaps a bit too cheerily. Tone it down a notch, Hummel. He told himself. Don't scare him away! Blaine smiled at him and his heart skipped a beat. "I am," he replied, and, oh god, his voice was just as beautiful as the rest of him. "What's on the menu?" he asked, his honey eyes looking up at him through thick lashes. "Well," Kurt started, trying to control his excitement and the breathy, high pitched quality of his voice. "I wasn't sure what you would like, because I refuse to become one of ‘those fans'," he said, letting some sarcasm drip into his tone. Blaine laughed. Kurt reminded himself to breath. "So, I just went with Caesar salad, herb roasted chicken breast, and some mushroom risotto; delicious and mutually agreeable." Kurt finished, suddenly realizing all of the flaws in his meal plan. What if Blaine was a vegetarian? What if he was allergic to mushrooms? What if he didn't like the dressing Kurt made for the salad? Why the hell didn't Kurt just Google what Blaine liked to eat??

"That sounds amazing," Blaine said warmly, the sincerity in his tone and expression making Kurt melt. "Good. I-I'm glad you approve," Kurt offered a shy smile, which Blaine returned, successfully turning Kurt's legs to jelly. "Well, everything's ready when you are." Blaine nodded and motioned for Kurt to lead the way. The pair made their way into the dining room, and sat down across from each other at the table that Kurt had set prior to Blaine's arrival. "Well, this is it." Kurt said, motioning to the table. "Dig in."

"This is really great; though I wish you hadn't' gone to such trouble." Blaine said, his voice soft. "It was no trouble at all. I love to cook." Kurt smiled, serving himself some salad while Blaine reached for the risotto. "Really?" Blaine asked, setting the risotto down and reaching for the salad bowl. Kurt handed it to him and their hands brushed, a pleasant shudder ran through both of the boys. "I wish I could say the same. I can barely fry an egg," Blaine said, ducking his head. Kurt giggled. Blaine's heart nearly stuttered to a halt. "I'm sure it's not that bad," Kurt said, a goofy grin on his face. Blaine looked up and quirked an eyebrow as if to say you wanna bet? Kurt just laughed again. "Okay, so you can't cook. But I happen to know that what you lack in culinary skills, you more than make up for with your outstanding musical abilities," he said, blue eyes focusing on the adorable crooked smile gracing Blaine's handsome face. "Thank you," Blaine said before scooping in the first bite of risotto.

"Oh my god!" he nearly groaned. "Kurt, this is fantastic!" Kurt breathed out in relief. "Oh, good. I'm glad you like it." He said, eyes sparkling. "Like it? That's an understatement," Blaine replied between bites. Reaching out, he sipped his water and continued. "Okay, so you can most definitely cook. Got it," Blaine nodded. "Tell me more about yourself." Kurt paused. "Like what?" Blaine glanced up from cutting his chicken to look at him before answering. "Anything. Everything."  Kurt's pulse quickened. "Okay, well..." Kurt took a deep breath and then exhaled in a huff. "I was born here in Lima. I've been here all my life. I'm a senior this year; I just turned 18 in October. I love Broadway and singing. I also adore fashion and, in turn, Vogue." Kurt looked at Blaine, waiting for a response. "Continue," he offered, a small smile on his lips. Kurt thought. Why not?

"My mom died when I was 8, so it was just me and dad for a while. He took care of me, and I took care of him. We worked. But, as I got older, we grew apart for a while. He's a flannel wearing, sports loving mechanic, and I'm his scarf collecting, theater loving, countertenor son. What were we suppose to talk about? It got better when I came out my sophomore year. He accepted me when I needed acceptance most, and he continues to support me every day. He's my best friend, my hero." Blaine smiled. "You're so lucky." Kurt's eyes were questioning. Blaine sighed.

"My parents were never... well, let's just say I turned twenty-one in November, and I'm still looking for the acceptance that you found at what, 15?" Kurt nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but Blaine shook his head. "It's okay. I'm just glad there are people like your dad out there." Kurt smiled. "Yeah, me too."

"So, tell me about your school. You said you like theater? What did you participate in?" Kurt looked at his plate, his food nearly untouched since the conversation began. "Oh, how to describe William McKinley high school?" he cupped his chin between his index finger and thumb and pretended to ponder the question. "Homophobic, definitely; and also stupid. I swear, how 90% of those Neanderthals ever made it out of elementary school is beyond me." Blaine laughed, but didn't miss the first part. "Uhm, homophobic?" Kurt sighed. "Yeah. I'm the only out kid at school; most likely in all of Lima. Who am I kidding? I'm probably the only openly gay kid within a hundred mile radius. Blaine chuckled. "Save yourself, of course." "Of course," Blaine smiled around a forkful of chicken. "The kids don't take how... open I am very well." Blaine's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" "I get bullied. A lot." At Blaine's expression, Kurt hurriedly tried to downplay his words. "Nothing crazy; just the usual."

"The usual?"

 "You know, tossed into dumpsters, shoved in the hallway, the occasional swirly." Kurt shuddered. "The worst thing is the slushies, though."

"The slushies?"

"Oh, yeah. The jocks get slushies from the cafeteria, and toss them in my face. It's not just me, though. The whole glee club is treated to the slushy facials."

"Oh my god," Blaine said, clearly concerned. "And nobody does anything about all of this?" Kurt barely contained his harsh laugh. "Yeah, right. What's there to do? We're in glee club, and I'm gay. We put ourselves at the bottom of the food chain." Blaine looked appalled. "It's fine though. It'll all be over soon enough." Both boys flinched. Kurt stammered to cover up the topic they had both been consciously avoiding. "Y'know, with graduation coming and all." Blaine sighed, "Yeah, I get it." Kurt's eyes met his across the table. "Oh?"

"Yeah. When I was in school I got it pretty bad, too." Kurt froze. "Really? Can you... are you comfortable... sharing?" Blaine paused. Wes would kill him for telling his life story to someone he barely knew. Someone who could just turn around and sell the story to some magazine. But Blaine trusted Kurt. Even though it couldn't have been more than an hour since they met, Blaine felt like he could tell Kurt anything, and he wanted to. And, somehow, he knew the feeling was mutual. He had nothing to hide, anyway. That was his one condition with his whole career; he wouldn't hide who he was. Blaine cleared his throat.

"Well, I was in the 8th grade when I first came out. There was this Sadie Hawkins dance, so I asked my friend-the only other out kid at my school-to go with me. We got all dressed up and we went, and danced, and had a really nice time. I remember being so... hopeful. Two guys just went to a dance together, and no one fell ill, the world didn't end. Things were okay." Blaine's expression turned from nostalgic to distraught in the blink of an eye. "Anyway, we were waiting for his dad to pick us up when it happened."

"When... when what happened?" Kurt managed.

"When a couple of seniors from the high school beat the living crap out of us." Kurt blanched and reached for Blaine's hand before he realized what he was doing. Blaine's hand twitched, but then relaxed under Kurt's.

"I spent the rest of the school year in the hospital, and the whole summer making up the school work I missed so that I wouldn't be held back. I transferred to Dalton Academy in Westerville for my freshman year of high school. I graduated, and went straight into the music industry.  My first year at Dalton was... amazing. There's a zero tolerance policy there. I made friends, I was the lead soloist for the glee club, I even took up boxing and started a fight club, which I can't talk about of course." Blaine grinned. "Of course," Kurt teased. "Overall, my high school experience was great." Blaine looked up into Kurt's eyes.

"Blaine, about everything that happened to you... I'm really so-"

Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand. "Don't be. That whole... everything that happened is in the past. It made me stronger. Anyway, if I'd never gone to Dalton, I wouldn't have gotten a record deal." Kurt quirked an eyebrow in question.

"Well, my first year at Dalton, I met Wes Montgomery. He was senior counsel member of the Warblers-Dalton's glee club-and he also happened to have an eye for business and talent. He became my best friend, and mentor, really. By the time I graduated he was already out of college. I'd never met anyone who worked through the summer semesters." Blaine rolled his eyes fondly. "Anyway, when he graduated, he had already been working at a record label. Well, one day, the owner of the label decided that it was going nowhere, so he sold it. Wes, a valuable employee, got if for cheap and turned it completely around. He gave it a new name-Warbler Records, in honor of his time at Dalton-and signed some new faces. He goes to Dalton's glee club sectionals every year to scout fresh talent. Everything's still new. The label's only been his for about 3 years now. He signed me as soon as I turned the tassel on my graduation cap."

Kurt was staring, his mouth hanging slightly open, only vaguely aware of his hand, still in Blaine's. "Blaine, that's... that's amazing!" Blaine smiled, his heart beating a bit erratically at his name on Kurt's lips. "Yeah, I know. I'm incredibly lucky." Kurt nodded. "What about your parents? They must be insanely proud of you." Kurt said, pulling his hand away-albeit a bit reluctantly-to pick at the chicken on his plate. Blaine frowned.

"Well, not exactly."

"What do you mean?"

"My parents, my dad especially, don't really approve of my... lifestyle." Kurt knew Blaine didn't mean music. "They've never really been... warm, exactly, but, after I came out..." Blaine looked down at his almost clean plate. "One summer, after my freshman year, my dad built a car with me. He claimed it was bonding, but I believe he thought that getting my hands dirty might make me straight." Kurt tried to keep his face calm and neutral. Blaine was already clearly hurting; he didn't need Kurt's pity on his mind. "And your mom?" He asked tentatively. "Mom wasn't bad. She just wasn't there. She's my dad's little puppy. She backs him up and takes his side because she's his wife; it's her ‘job'." Blaine shrugged his shoulders. "But she's your mom." Kurt stated, disbelief clear in his tone. "Yeah, try telling her that." A silence fell between them, though it wasn't awkward, but contemplative. "Enough about me," Blaine broke the moment. "Tell me about yourself."

Kurt sipped his water. "Well, you know about most of the bullying-"

"Most of it?" Blaine asked, his forehead creased.  Kurt ducked his head. "I'm sorry; you don't have to tell me. It's okay."

"No, I-I want to." Blaine had just poured his heart out. Now it was Kurt's turn. And he really did want to tell Blaine this. He wanted to tell Blaine everything. "Well, obviously most of the jocks bully me; but there's one in particular that goes beyond the others." Kurt looked into Blaine's empathetic eyes and swallowed thickly before continuing. "Karofsky. His name is Dave Karofsky, and it seems like he's made it his life's mission to make my life a living hell. Blaine sighed sadly. "How so?"

"The usual, just more frequently. Locker slams, shoves, threats..."

"Threats??" Blaine was shocked and outraged.

"Yeah, threats. Last year it was at its worse and everything came to a head when I finally stood up for myself. Karofsky pushed me down and... and I got back up. I followed him into the locker room and I confronted him. There was... was some y-yelling, and, and then..."

"And then?" Though Blaine wasn't sure he wanted to know what happened next.

"He kissed me."

"He... what??"

"Threw himself at me. When I pushed him away, he threatened my life. I swore not to tell and he left. He still harasses me, only now... his hands linger when he's pushing me into the wall."

Blaine was on his feet, his hands balled into fists at his sides before he could even register the movement. "Where is he?! Where does he live?"

"Blaine..."

"Kurt, he's harassing you! He threatened to kill you!"

"And what are you going to do, Blaine?" Kurt inquired, his tone firm but sad.

Blaine frowned, but calmed down enough to sit. Was it normal for him to feel so much for someone he just met? To feel for him enough to make him want to fight Kurt's battles and protect him?

"Kurt, why haven't you told anyone?"

"What can they do? There's no evidence. It'll be his word against mine. Plus, who's gonna help out the poor gay kid? There's nothing they can do. In their minds, because I am the way I am, I'm asking for it. There's no point in stressing out my dad over something that can't be helped. He's already sick."

Blaine looked at Kurt quizzically.

"He had a heart attack last year; went into a coma." Kurt said solemnly. This time it was Blaine who took Kurt's hand across the table. "That was the worst week of my life. I thought I was going to lose him. But things got better. He woke up, and I took care of him. He got stronger and healthier. We were okay. Then, he met Carole and I got a stepmom and brother. Our little family got bigger. I'm relieved, too, because now my dad has someone. She takes care of him, which is comforting because I won't always be there to do it myself." Both boys grew quiet.

"Sorry," Kurt murmured.

"Don't say that. God, don't apologize."

They looked at each other, and it was apparent that neither one understood what was going on between them, nor why their hands were still clasped; but neither seemed to mind. Quite the opposite, in fact; they both enjoyed the rush they felt in the other's presence.  Blaine looked at their hands and tried to ignore the live wire feeling of their skin where it touched. Deciding to be bold, Blaine asked "what are your... did you have any places for after high school? Before you were diagnosed.

"Hmm?" Kurt looked up from where he had been staring at Blaine's thumb rubbing faintly over his inner wrist. "Oh, yeah. I suppose I did."

"Well?" Blaine prodded.

"Uhm, well, I always wanted to be on Broadway. I was going to apply to NYADA and study musical theater in the greatest city in the world; New York. It was between that, and working my way up the ladder at Vogue." Kurt blushed at his own, foolish dreams. "I know, it's...silly."  

"It's not silly," Blaine's grip tightened on Kurt's hand, Kurt's chest tightened in response. Their eyes met and held for a moment. "So why me?" Blaine heard himself asking. "Hmm?" Kurt hummed his response. "Your wish. Why'd you ask to meet me? You could've asked for anything."

"Yeah, well, it was either this, or a trip to Disney World. I like to think I took the road less traveled by," Kurt gave a teasing half smile. Blaine chuckled. "But why not tickets to a Broadway show, or a trip to Vogue magazine?"

"I didn't want to surround myself with roles I'll never get to audition for, or next season's trends I'll never get the chance to haggle for on eBay, only to recreate with the signature Kurt Hummel flair." His tone was joking, but his eyes were sad. "It just seemed like more pain than pleasure," Kurt's eyes flashed to Blaine's. "Meeting you is a once in a lifetime chance anyway, and I figured I'd get to enjoy the wish without having to think about my hopes and dreams coming true around me for other people, if that makes any sense at all." Blaine nodded, because it did. Why would Kurt want to see other people working for Vogue, or singing on a Broadway stage, when he would never get the chance to? Or would he?

"Well, I'm glad you chose me. It gave me the chance to meet you," Blaine said, sincerity clear in his tone. "I think that's what I'm supposed to say," Kurt countered with a small smile. "Nah," Blaine answered. "You're amazing, Kurt. I haven't known you for that long, but I know that you're unique and bold, strong and brave." Kurt blinked back tears, not for the first time that day. "It's been an honor meeting you, Kurt; and I mean that." Kurt blushed at the way his name lingered on Blaine's tongue. He couldn't argue with Blaine's word because the sincerity in his tone was undeniable.

"I-well, thank you, Blaine. That really means a lot." Blaine finally pulled his hand back after giving Kurt's hand one last squeeze. He cut another piece of chicken and chewed it slowly. "Mmm, you're also an amazing cook," Blaine said between bites. "I swear, if you're ever in LA looking for a job, a live in chef is greatly needed at my place." Kurt laughed and the two finished their meals in a comfortable silence. When they were finished, Blaine helped Kurt clear the table and do the dishes. Blaine was content and extremely full until Kurt announced that he made Tiramisu for dessert; then his stomach growled, and he declared himself starving. They ate their dessert in the living room, with a rerun of Project Runway on in the background. Blaine cracked up every time Kurt made a sarcastic comment about the designers and their pieces.

They talked about their interests, their likes and dislikes, their favorites. "Okay," Kurt started. "Favorite 2012 Vogue cover... 1-2-3"

 "Marion Courtiard!" They both yelled.

"Oh my god, stop it!" Blaine said, a huge grin plastered on his face.

They had been doing that for just over an hour now. They knew each other's favorite color-Dior grey for Kurt, fuchsia for Blaine ("What? It's so vibrant!"), favorite flavor ("Vanilla isn't boring, Blaine; it's classic. Chocolate is boring."), favorite food ("Thai food is delicious Blaine, not smelly." "I speak Italian, too. I think it's my favorite because I can order it without mispronouncing anything... wait, you speak French?!"), favorite movie ("‘When Harry Met Sally'; and I get to play Meg Ryan." Blaine said ‘Autumn in New York' without thinking. The parallel was neither lost on, nor mentioned by either boy.), and favorite musical ("Really Blaine? You expect me to choose just one? That's like favoritism." "I...point taken."). 

The pair agreed on many things like politics and religion, but they also disagreed on things like ties vs. bow ties, and hair gel vs. hair spray (gel is used to sculpt your hair and ruin-I mean ‘style' it; spray is used to simply preserve the perfection that's already there, Blaine.). They had a lot in common like taste in clothes and music, but they also had different preferences and opinions (Blaine, I will never wear shoes without socks. It's just isn't right.) Kurt preferred tables, because he hated sliding in and out of a dirty booth, where Blaine happened to enjoy the intimacy and comfort of a booth. Both boys liked coffee; but where Blaine preferred a simple and strong Medium Drip, Kurt enjoyed an indulgent and rich Grande Non-fat Mocha. Their personalitites were completely different, but they somehow went extremely well together.

They talked about life and their families-Kurt's oblivious but caring stepbrother Finn, and Blaine's conceited and sometimes delusional, but always loving brother Cooper. The talked about their pasts and their futures (Kurt's a bit more certain than Blaine's). Blaine told Kurt about Los Angeles and the music industry, and Kurt taught Blaine the proper way to fold pants. The conversation was easy and enjoyable, and both boys were completely lost in each other. So lost, in fact, that neither noticed how close they had become. Literally. Kurt was sitting cross legged on the couch facing Blaine, his knee pressed against Blaine's thigh where he sat, legs propped up on the foot rest in front of the couch. Blaine's arm was slung over the back of the couch, his hand just barely brushing Kurt's shoulder, while his other hand was in Kurt's, and being scrutinized.

"Tell me again why you let your fingers get this bad," Kurt said, rubbing his thumb over the rough callouses on Blaine's fingers. "Kurt, music is my career. I play the guitar almost every day of my life. A few callouses are inevitable." Kurt frowned. "I'm sure with a good moisturizer..." "The pick would slip out of my fingers," Blaine joked, opening his hand in Kurt's. He lined their hands up, palm to palm, in the air between the two of them. Then, he spread his fingers and let them fall into the spaces between Kurt's. They fit perfectly. Both boys stared at their entwined fingers for a moment, reveling at the feel and trying to ignore the butterflies swooping in their stomachs.  Blaine lifted his other hand to Kurt's cheek and ran his calloused thumb over the reddening skin. "I'll have you know, some people like the way it feels," he tried for a teasing tone, but it came out in a whisper. "I'm starting to see why," Kurt responded, just as breathlessly. Blaine glanced down to Kurt's mouth, something he had been trying to keep from doing all afternoon. Kurt's lips were pink and full; they looked soft and... and kissable. Blaine leaned forward, feeling drawn to Kurt, pulled towards him as if there was some magnetic force at work. Kurt leaned in too; or was that just wishful thinking on Blaine's part? No, it was definitely happening, because their faces were now only inches apart, and Blaine was dizzy, and wow! Kurt smells so good!  Their eyes were locked on each other, cool azure and warm honey, and those eyes were so close and only getting... father? In a flash, Kurt was on the other side of the couch again, with almost three feet of space between them; which was a normal distance for two people, especially two people who were basically strangers, but Kurt didn't feel like a stranger, and the space felt way too big. Blaine almost whimpered. Whimpered.  But then, he heard the footsteps behind them; the footsteps that must be the reason that Kurt pulled away.

"Hi dad!" Blaine heard Kurt's voice-now a bit higher than usual-break the silence. "You're back so soon."

"Kurt, it's almost 9 o'clock," a gruff voice answered back as the footsteps grew closer. Blaine looked over to the entry way of the living room where Burt Hummel was now standing. "Am I interrupting somethin'?" He asked, entering the room. "No, we were just watching TV," Kurt said, a bit nervously. Burt quirked an eyebrow at the muted television, but said nothing. Kurt cleared his throat and Blaine snapped out of his haze. "You must be Kurt's dad," he said, standing and reaching his hand out. "I'm Blaine. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hummel." Burt looked between Kurt and Blaine, and then shook Blaine's proffered hand. "Call me Burt."

The rest of the evening involved boisterous yelling, and several boxes of pizza. It started with "You watch sports, Blaine?" and ended with Burt, Finn, and Blaine all cheering loudly and slapping each other on the backs while Kurt and Carole shook their heads fondly and sipped their iced teas.

The boys hit it off quite well, discussing sports and cars; and Kurt was ecstatic to see Blaine getting on so well with his dad. Not that it mattered, really. After all, after tonight Kurt would never see him again. That thought made his heart sink. What was he thinking? Letting himself feel... anything for Blaine. It didn't matter; it couldn't. Still, Kurt couldn't shake the feeling that they had connected on some level, and he was almost certain that Blaine felt it too. Kurt had to remind himself that this was all just a wish. A wish come true, and set up for him by a foundation. Because he was dying. Aside from that, Blaine was a celebrity. He would leave tonight and be swept out of his life just like every other good thing Kurt had ever had. Gone as fast as he had come.

Sighing, Kurt closed the Vogue he was reading and set it down on the coffee table. He stood up from his spot on the couch next to Blaine, grabbed the empty pizza boxes on the table, and headed to the front door.

He stopped by the coat rack and was winding a scarf around his neck when he heard someone come up behind him. "Blaine," he breathed, turning to face him. "Hi," Blaine replied softly. "Going somewhere?" He asked with a smile. "Oh, no; just taking these down to the recycling bin." Kurt said, motioning to the boxes under his arm with his free hand. "Here, let me help you with those." And before Kurt could argue, Blaine took the boxes from him and nodded to the door. Kurt pulled it open and stepped outside, Blaine followed, and Kurt pulled the door shut. They walked down the driveway to the curb, and Blaine tossed the boxes into the bin. "Thanks," Kurt said. "Of course," Blaine said warmly.

Kurt looked up at the dark sky, "It's getting late," he said, his voice sad. Blaine, who was staring intently into Kurt's face, looked confused for a moment. "What?" He looked around. "Oh, yeah, I guess it is." There was a pause. "Is it... do you have to go?" Blaine sighed, but pulled out his phone. He turned it on and it flooded with texts and missed calls, all from Wes. He looked at the time, it was almost midnight. Wes was going to kill him. "Yeah, I guess I do." Kurt looked down. Blaine reluctantly texted Wes to come and pick him up; he was not looking forward to what Wes was going to say about this. He got a reply within seconds. Be there in 10. Ten minutes? Had Wes been sitting around the corner all day? Blaine thought that he could've driven to the hotel and back and still had time to spare. "Uhm, my car will be here in a few minutes." Kurt looked up at him. "Oh. So soon?" Blaine laughed bitterly. "Yeah, Wes doesn't cut me any slack. Short leash and all." Kurt's laugh was humorless. They walked back inside and Blaine said goodbye to Burt, Finn and Carole. To his surprise, they all hugged him warmly. He wondered if they knew how good it made him feel. He had never really known what a family was, let alone experienced it firsthand. When the goodbyes were over, Blaine left the house and stood on the porch, waiting for Wes. To his surprise and elation, Kurt stood with him.

"I had a really nice time today, Kurt." The best time I've had in years.

"Yeah, me too." You have no idea.

"Kurt," "Blaine," They both started, then laughed. Blaine motioned for Kurt to go first. "I just wanted to say... thank you so much for... for this. For granting my wish. It means a lot."

Blaine grabbed Kurt's hands. "Of course. It means a lot to me, too." He didn't drop Kurt's hands. They looked into each other's eyes, and it felt like time stood still. If only.

Kurt sniffed. "What were you going to say?"

Blaine's eye brightened up hopefully.

"Well, I don't mean to be presumptuous, but I'm not leaving town until the day after tomorrow, and... I don't know. I was just hoping that you'd maybe want to... to do something? I know, it's not a part of the, the wish, or anything, but... I'm just not ready to say goodbye to you yet." And I don't think I ever will be.

"Blaine," Kurt said, sounding surprised. Blaine mistook it as wary.

"Of course, you can say no. I totally get it. I mean, we just spent the entire day together, really. You probably want some time to yourself, plus we hardly know each other, and"

"Blaine."

"I know that I can be annoying at times, you're probably sick of me," Blaine laughed nervously.

"Blaine?"

"I know I would be. Sick of me! Not sick of you. I don't think I could ever be sick of you. Shit. I shouldn't have said that. Oh my god and I shouldn't have said ‘shit'. Oh god, I just said it again, I'm so sorry. I just tend to ramble when I'm nervous, not that you make me nervous, I just-"

"BLAINE!"

Blaine jumped a bit in surprise, but looked at Kurt. "Yes?"

"I would love to see you again."

A huge grin broke out on Blaine's face and Kurt returned it. "Great! I mean... I mean, that's cool. Yeah, really, uhm, nice. Thank you." Kurt giggled and Blaine's heart almost beat out of his chest. They stood there in the cool air and just looked at each other. It didn't really count as staring if the other person was looking back, right? Blaine opened his mouth to speak just as a sleek black car pulled up on  the curb and honked.

"I'm assuming that's your ride?"

"You assume correctly."

Kurt just smiled. "Thank you for coming, tell Wes I said hello."

Blaine laughed. "Will do, and any time."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Blaine." Kurt said, hope and elation apparent on his face.

"Yeah. Yeah, definitely. I'll call you."

"Okay."

Blaine turned to walk away, but Kurt caught his arm. Blaine looked at him and for the briefest moment thought Kurt was going to lean in...

"Blaine, you didn't ask me for my number." Blaine laughed, a bit embarrassed.

"Oh. Wow. I really suck at this, huh?" Kurt laughed, but didn't ask what ‘this' was. Instead, he just stuck his hand out. Blaine dug his phone out of his pocket and placed it in Kurt's hand. He watched as Kurt tapped away at the keyboard. When he was finished, he handed it back to Blaine. The number was saved under Kurt :) Blaine smiled. "Okay, I'll see you tomorrow, Kurt."

"See you tomorrow, Blaine."

Another moment passed between them, and the car honked again behind them. Blaine looked back and Kurt just looked at Blaine, neither one of them wanting to leave the other. What happened next was not expected, and surprised both boys completely. It would later get Blaine in a heap of trouble, but he wouldn't care.

Kurt stood on his porch as the shiny black car disappeared down the street, his hand touching his cheek, still tingling where Blaine's lips had kissed it.

Later that night, as Kurt finished his nightly skin care regiment, his phone went off on his vanity.

Sleep won't come easy because tomorrow can't come soon enough.  -Blaine