I untacked the last musical poster from beside my bed before glancing around the room. It was hard to believe just how empty the top floor of the cabin looked. All the mess and clutter of four weeks of a group living together had been eliminated, tucked into neat trunks and stuffed laundry bags. I folded my comforter, moving to strip the sheets from my bed and shove them into my already mostly full laundry bag. Good thing the laundry was going out tomorrow morning. And good thing I had a second clean bottom sheet to put on my new cot in Cabin 3.

"I can't believe this day is actually here." Sam noted, pausing in his packing to plop cross legged on the top of his bunk.

"I know. We'll never all be living in the same cabin again. Ever. It's rather bittersweet." I said, rolling my pillow up inside my blankets. "It feels a lot like growing up."

"I suspect they mean it to." Mike popped his head out of his trunk to reply. "Maybe some of us will end up as co-counselors some day. Think Schue would ever let us get away with that?"

"Only if he wants the camp to burn down around us." I joked dryly before I followed Sam's lead, collapsing on the edge of my bed. "At least, I doubt he'd let Sam and I be together. You're supposedly a good influence."

"And you're not? Didn't Schue give you Blaine to watch over? Would he have done that if he thought you were such a bad influence?" Mike questioned with a teasing tone, shutting the lid to his trunk.

I laughed eying Sam. "I think that's true. Which leaves you as the horrible influence. Mike and I will be busy with a cabin of seniors next year, and you'll be all off on your own. Poor, bad influence Sam."

Sam lifted his hand, flipping me off with a cheerful grin showing just how not actually angry he was. "Sure. You two leave me behind. I'll be off crying in the corner. Besides, I'm not a bad influence. I'm just fun."

"So that's what they're calling it these days?" I let out a sigh. "I'm not ready to let go of all of this." I admitted. "Promise me that we'll still be friends, even when you're not a bunk over?"

Mike raised three fingers on his right hand. "I promise."

"Were you ever even a boy scout?" I scoffed teasingly. I really was going to miss spending so much time with both of them. This summer had already cut into that, both with my schedule with activities and my cabin and with all the time I'd been spending with Blaine. I didn't regret that time at all, especially the time spent with Blaine, but I did miss having my friends be the whole focus of my summer. "We've already been doing it, haven't we? Growing apart and moving on this summer?"

Sam shrugged. "I'll promise as well, but no fancy hand gestures. And I suppose we have. Totally different schedules and all. But am I any less your friend? We'll still be tight, even living in different cabins." Leave it to the blond to surprise me with insight.

I nodded, standing up from my cot. "I think I'm all packed. I should start hauling this over to the cabin, but I'm not sure I want to leave. Plus, how the hell did all my stuff multiply over the summer? I swear I didn't have this much when I moved in."

Mike laughed at that last bit, moving to roll up his own blankets. "I know! I swear it's been breeding behind our backs." He paused for a moment then sighed. "I think we all three need to grab a load and go. It's like ripping off a bandaid. It won't be the same not spending the whole summer with beds next to each other, but that doesn't mean we're not friends. Now let's stop being mopey girls and get on with it." He grabbed those blankets and turned right there to walk out.

"Well, Mike actually went to all the trouble to make a speech for once. Wow. We'd better listen or Hades might crash in around us." I noted with a sigh, grabbing my laundry bag and my own blanket roll. "Meet back here to help each other with trunks?"

It might have been fitting that first thing I did upon my move was to tack my musical posters back up to the wall over my new bed in Cabin 3. I'm sure Rory and Finn will really appreciate them. Probably as much as my last few cabins have. At least it made the bed feel more like mine. I'd been anticipating this move the whole summer, but now that it was here? It felt odd. As if I was suddenly pretending to be a cabin counselor, like it was all a ploy. I hadn't even finished high school. How could someone trust me to put kids to bed and take care of them?

It was silly, considering that I'd been training to do that for more than a summer and this wouldn't really change much at all about what I'd been doing with the boys all summer.

I reached down to heft my trunk, shifting it to fit against the wall and under shelving built into the wooden side of the cabin. One nice thing about living here, I had more shelf and storage space. I'd find a use for all of it, I was sure, despite the restrictions on the amount I could bring since I'd flown to camp.

I was just standing up from tucking in my blankets when I felt a pair of arms wrap around me. I'll have to admit that I pretty well jumped out of my skin before I turned around and saw that it was Blaine. He stepped back with a sheepish look on his face as he could probably feel my heart racing against his back.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." Blaine stated with a wince. "I didn't realize you hadn't heard me come in."

I shook my head. "I know. I just - I know that no one here is going to grab me and do anything horrible, but it's hard to convince my instincts of that. You know?"

Blaine nodded, and I knew that he really did. "Maybe I should choose this for a greeting instead?" He quickly glanced around to make sure we still had privacy and then closed the distance between us to press a kiss to my lips.

I lifted a hand to his cheeks, kissing back for a moment, before I pulled away to suck in some air. "I quite like that greeting."

"I'll have to remember that." Blaine stated, a smile spreading across his face. "Especially now that you have a bit more privacy. Speaking of which, how's the unpacking going?"

"It's going pretty well. It's not that hard to pack and unpack camp stuff, since so much of it was already either in my trunk or laundry bag." I pointed out, moving to sit on the freshly made bed, patting the spot beside me for Blaine to sit down. "This your free period?"

"Yep. I have a whole hour, well, fifty minutes or so now, to do whatever I want." Blaine sank down close to me, bumping our shoulders lightly together.

I wrapped an arm around his shoulders, cuddling close, and Blaine responded by resting his head down on my shoulder. With the warm feeling it evoked in the pit of my stomach, I could have stayed just like that all day. "Well, whatever you want that won't get us kicked out of camp if someone walked in on us."

"True. That does rather limit things." Blaine teased before he added, "My dad emailed. He's planning to come for Parents' Day on Saturday."

"He went here, right? Makes sense. It's a chance to relive his youth." I noted, tilting my head to rest it against Blaine's curls.

"Relive his youth and hopefully take me out for a haircut. I swear that I'm going to develop an afro or start having to spend tons of time gelling and washing out gel again." Blaine said with a soft sigh.

"I think you might worry even more about your hair than I do, which should qualify you for some sort of award." I joked. "I kind of like the curls. Right now they do look quite camp chic, though. But shorter curls with a small amount of gel to keep them from being frizzy would be a great look on you."

"I'll keep that in mind." Blaine said dryly before he added, "I'm not sure if I'm looking forward to seeing him or not. He and Mom and flying in Friday morning and meeting me in Hanover to go back to the doctor's. So it's not only Saturday, either. Lucky me."

"Maybe lucky you will at least get that cast off. Then I can keep my promise and really teach you how to kayak." I noted. "Do you not think he'll be happy to see you?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure I'll be happy to see him either. What if he gets here and ignores me in favor of Schue or something? Or doesn't think that I'm doing a good enough job as a CIT? He didn't want me at home. Why does he want to see me now other than to just be at camp himself?"

"Because he loves you?" I suggested, resting a hand down on Blaine's knee in a gesture I hoped was reassuring. "Maybe he'll show up and just be happy to see how well you're fitting in here. Maybe he'll be proud to see how much you've come out of your shell in a month. When you got here, you were so scared and worried all the time. I bet this is a lot more like the Blaine he's used to seeing. Maybe he'll just be happy to have the real you back."

"Maybe." Blaine said simply. "I guess it won't help to worry about this, will it? I could make a new resolution not to worry about what my father things or does."

"You can't control that part of the future, so I agree. What good does it do to worry about something you have no control over?" I asked, squeezing his leg. "Are you looking forward to seeing your mother? You don't talk about her as much."

"I guess I am. More than my dad at least. She's not always been the warm fuzzy sort of mom that some people have, but I've always known she loves me. She's supported me in my love of theater and didn't even bat an eye when I came out." Blaine paused for a second before he admitted in a softer tone, "I have missed her, as cheesy as that sounds from a sixteen year old."

"I don't think it sounds cheesy at all. I miss my dad every summer. I wish he was coming for Parents' Day, but it's not going to work out this year." It was my turn to sigh now. "Which means I'll never see him for another Parents' Day ever again. It's weird to even say that, but counselors don't have their parents come. I guess it's part of growing up. I had many Parents' Days, though it was sometimes Grandparents' Day for me instead if my dad couldn't come. Now it's my turn to put together and staff Parents' Day for the next generation of campers. Full circle and all that."

"That sounds about right. You and your fancy bed in an actual counselors room and all." Blaine shifted suddenly away from me a second before I could hear the pounding of feet coming through the cabin.

"Kurt? Did you happen to grab my green running shorts?" Sam asked, poking his head around the fabric curtain that sectioned off the counselor room. "Oh! Blaine, hi! Anyway, I can't find them anywhere, but they're not back at the Leadership cabin."

"Do green running shorts sound like my style?" I asked, sliding off the bed to check my dirty laundry for them. That had been close. It was a good thing that Blaine had good hearing, because getting caught sitting like that would have let the cat out of the bag. Rory and Finn were still the only two people at camp who knew that Blaine and I were dating. I was willing for Blaine to be ready to tell everyone else, but if we got caught cuddling together? That would give it away for sure.

That Friday, I found myself in the car on the way to Hanover again, though this time it was Wes driving instead of David. There was one other big difference on the drive over. This time, Blaine sang along to the radio right alongside Wes and me.

I'd questioned whether I needed to go, since Blaine's parents were meeting our whole excursion there, but Wes had pointed out that Blaine and I were still technically campers. Him being alone in a car with a camper for that long was a big no no. If Blaine didn't bring a friend, he'd have needed to drag another staff member along.

I would have agreed to come anyway, just because Blaine wanted me there. That said, I was nervous about meeting his parents. What if his father was every bad thing Blaine thought of him, and he hated me on sight?

Just as we had for the last visit, our first stop at the hospital was to get a new x-ray of Blaine's arm. The Andersons were nowhere in sight, so Wes used the medical releases his father had signed for the camp to check Blaine in, while I settled into a chair with the sketchbook I'd brought to occupy myself in waiting rooms. It was only five minutes or so after Blaine had been called back when a neatly dressed couple about my father's age stepped into the room. The man's eyes scanned the room and caught on the logo of last year's staff shirt Wes had put on for the outing.

These must be Blaine's parents then, since they turned to approach us, or at least Wes. I gave them a quick look over, trying not to show my surprise. Somehow I had completely missed the fact that Blaine's mother was Asian. She was a petite woman, with sleek black hair, dressed in a sundress with a short sleeved cardigan over top. She flashed a quick smile at me as her husband addressed Wes, and I could see something of the mask free Blaine in that greeting.

"Good day." Mr. Anderson greeted, offering his hand out towards Wes. "You must have brought my son in? Blaine?" Mr. Anderson wasn't a tall man, but he stood about my height, a few inches taller than his wife or son. His hair was light brown with a wave to it that might be the source of Blaine's curls. He was dressed as neatly in business casual as his wife, despite the flight it had taken to get them here, in a pressed pair of khakis and a forest green polo shirt.

Wes took Mr. Anderson's hand giving him a respectful smile. "I did. You must be Mr. and Mrs. Anderson? My name is Wes Montgomery. I'm Blaine's Unit Leader." Wes glanced to me for a second, apparently considering whether to introduce me before he went on ahead and did it. "And this is Kurt, one of Blaine's friends who came along today." I smiled back, mostly to Mrs. Anderson.

"And my son is?" Mr. Anderson asked, not offering his hand out to shake with me as well.

"I'm sorry we were late getting here." Mrs. Anderson spoke up for the first time. "Our flight was delayed, but thankfully by only half an hour. Sitting on the runway always makes my husband cranky." She smiled, despite the annoyed look on Blaine's father's face. "Well, it does. But it's nice to meet both of you."

"Blaine went back to get his arm x-rayed. It's not something that he needs someone with him for, so we went ahead and got it started without you." Wes admitted, sneaking a quick amused look over at Mrs. Anderson. "I would have tried to wait for actual appointment with the doctor. We'll have some time between this and that second appointment, if you want to go out into the rest of Hanover." Wes added glancing to Mr. Anderson. "See any old stomping grounds from your counselor days?"

Seeing Mrs. Anderson's nod, I piped in, "I know Blaine was kind of hoping you might take him to get his hair trimmed. Something about not wanting to grow an afro."

His mother laughed and nodded. "That sounds like my son. That sounds like a good plan then. We'll find a place to get him a haircut and then maybe after his appointment, we can take all of you to dinner before you have to get back to camp?"

The question was addressed to Wes who nodded an affirmative. "Sure. His appointment is late enough in the afternoon, we'd probably have to stop for something on the way back anyway. I'll call Schue later and get permission, but I can't imagine he'll say no unless the CITs and JCs have decided to run amuck in my absence."

Mr. Anderson gave me a look over that almost had me fidgeting in my shoes. At the start of the summer it would have. In the middle of July? I just raised my eyebrows and looked back at him, doing my best to hold on to my confidence. It helped that I was dressed in some of the nicer clothes I'd brought to camp, a pair of dark wash skinny jeans, a short sleeved button down, and a pinstriped black waistcoat. Good clothes make confidence easier. "Blaine mentioned you in his letters, I think. Kurt, right? You're his big brother?"

I nodded. "I am. We're working with the same cabin of kids as well. Blaine's become a good friend."

"You been at camp long?"

"Since I was eight. I'm a JC now. So, I think that pretty well counts."

Mr. Anderson made a quiet huffing sound. "You working in arts and crafts?"

I stared at him for a moment, mouth slightly agape. Maybe Blaine was right? "That's quite the assumption." I stated in my best ice queen tone. "I'm specializing in archery and kayaking, actually, but if the question was about whether I'm gay? Yes. I'm gay."

Mrs. Anderson looked like she was about ready to slap her husband upside the head, or at least might be mentally imagining such a thing. Blaine's father just shook his head awkwardly. "No. I mean, I didn't mean to insinuate that. I noticed you brought a sketchbook?"

I blushed a bright red at that. Let that teach me to assume. "Oh, right." Admitting I used it more to sketch fashion/costume ideas than anything else probably wouldn't help right here. "I do like to draw, so I thought it might help in waiting rooms."

That was about the time Blaine made his way back out. I was glad to see the grin on his face as he saw his parents moving quickly to wrap his mother up in a hug before his father got a more awkward one. I was also quite glad he'd managed that moment to come join us so I didn't dig myself into any deeper of a hole.

The rest of the day went well. I didn't go into the actual doctor's appointment with Blaine this time. He had his mother to hold his hand if he needed it. I had my sketchbook though, so I drew whatever came into my head and bantered with Wes.

Schue had easily given permission for us to stay for dinner, as long as Wes was there along with me. We'd gone to Molly's in Dartmouth's campus town. Mr. Anderson had spent the first part of dinner talking about how much everything had changed since he worked at camp. He and Wes actually had hit it off really well, chatting about camp the whole meal, dragging Blaine and I into stories at times.

After finishing our food, a great black bean burger and sweet potato fries for me, an indulgence into greasy food, we made our way back out onto the street, heading towards the Andersons' car. Apparently they'd brought something with them that wanted Blaine to be able to take back to camp tonight. So off we traipsed to collect it.

Blaine was in the middle of a story about some crazy antics our campers had gotten into, Wes and Mr. Anderson flanking either side of him as they laughed. It was amazing what a few hours and dinner had done to get Mr. Anderson to loosen up. Maybe some of it was the annoyance of the delayed flight, at Blaine's mother had pointed out. Part of it might have been the stories, falling back into a less stressful, happier time in his life.

I glance over to Mrs. Anderson, walking beside me, and smiled at the joyous look on her face as she watched her son. She caught me looking and smiled back. "Camp really has been good for him."

I looked over to Blaine, trying to see exactly what his mother was seeing. He really did look happy. His cast was off, the paleness of the skin that had been under it contrasting with the warm glow of the summer tan on the rest of his skin. His hair was cut shorter, and the stylist had added just a bit of gel, containing the curls perfectly. And probably more important, from a mother's perspective, he looked comfortable in his skin. Content.

"It has been. There's a reason it's my favorite place in the world." I responded.

"His father and I fought over this." Mrs. Anderson admitted. "After everything that happened, the last thing that I wanted to do was have him far from me. I wanted to keep him tucked under my wing, find him a therapist. Maybe wrap him up in bubble wrap. His father was adamant that he needed something different. That camp would do this for him."

"He's done this for himself." I added, watching Blaine crack up into laughter ahead of us. "We just gave him a safe place to do it, people to support him in that healing. Friends and a camp family."

"You're not just a friend, are you?" She asked curiously, making me flush a deep red.

"What makes you think that?" I stalled, not sure how to answer that question.

"The way you look at each other. Don't worry, I approve of anyone who makes my son happy."

"My guitar!" Blaine interrupted the conversation with his excitement as we must have reached the Anderson car. Mr. Anderson clicked the locks open, and Blaine pulled out a guitar case that looked more used and worn in than his camp trunk.

"Your mother and I thought you might want it now that you have your cast off." His father stated, with a smug smile at Blaine's reaction.

"You play guitar?" Wes interjected happily. "We can always use someone to play for campfires."

As I listened to Wes' plans for Blaine and his guitar, I looked over his mother and shared an amused smile. Today had been a much better day than our last trip to his doctor.