He shuddered at the memory. New luggage wasn’t cheap and god knew WHAT had made those huge gouges.

Whatever had happened, he and Finn had spent hours with some wine (okay, some Pabst for Finn; wine for Kurt) on the couch in their parents’ living room creating incredible narratives about what could have befallen his decimated luggage and laughing like loons. He grinned at the thought and recalled how Carole had made her way downstairs at 3am. They eyed her nervously, embarrassed to have wakened her, until she settled between them and joined in the discussion, beaming at her sons and drinking them in. She knew how these moments would grow few and far between now that they were grown men with lives of their own.

The carry on and the very large duffle that would be waiting on the luggage carousel made him feel like he was coming home from college again.

His plane had finally emptied enough for Kurt awkwardly slide up and out of his seat and make his way down the aisle and to the safety of the boarding ramp. He knew that Mercedes’ plane had landed 45 minutes prior to his and he couldn’t wait to lay his eyes on her. It had been far too long.

As he made his way to the door and out into the cacophony that is the airport one voice rose among the others and he blushed with recognition.

“Boooooooooo!” Mercedes screeched, not caring who heard or how her shout had echoed off the walls. She practically bounded to where Kurt was adjusting his hold on his bag before tackling him in a huge bear hug.

“Oh my GOD I have missed you so much, boy!” she exclaimed against his shoulder.

Kurt surrendered himself to the hug, glad that he had remembered to wear the wrinkle-resistant shirt for his trip on the plane even though it felt so good to hug his old friend. They made their way to the carousels as Mercedes chattered to Kurt about her flight, her new boyfriend, and her job in Atlanta. He also deduced that she would be staying with her grandmother again on this trip and had to fly home on Sunday. Four days with her would not be enough, but he would take what he could get and be glad to see her for what little time they had.

He surveyed the carousel, searching amongst the multitude of black duffles for his own shiny red one. Apparently his had not been unloaded yet.

He turned his attention back to Mercedes mid-sentence.

“…thanksgiving?”

“I’m sorry, ‘Cedes, I seem to have been woolgathering,” Kurt replied. “What was that you were saying?”

Mercedes sighed but her smile never faltered as she repeated her previous sentence.

“I was asking you what your plans were tomorrow and if your brother was coming for Thanksgiving?”

Kurt smiled. He could not wait to get home tonight to see his father and Carole and he knew Finn would be arrive in the morning with his wife and Kurt’s beautiful niece. He had a soft spot for that lovely girl. The last time he had seen her was in December of the previous year while her parents spent time enjoying the city and some alone time, he had taken her to the American Girl store and they had spent over an hour oohing and aahing over all the lovely dresses and accessories available to play and challenge their imaginations with. After looking at the holiday collection together, (“Elora, dear, never get a dress made of satin like this if you’re going to be getting too warm. Sweat circles look good on no one.”) she had pulled him down to her height, her gaze searching his and said, “You love this as much as I do, doncha Uncle Kurt?” He had smiled, hugged her tight, and whispered into her brown curls “Yes, but not as much as I love you.” She giggled into his neck and replied, “I love you, too, Uncle Kurt. I love you seventy-five, even.”

It had been a wonderful day. Oh that girl had him wrapped around his finger.

He realized he had done it again, lost his focus, and replied, “Well, tomorrow Finn, Harmony, and Elora will arrive at the Hummel-Hudson household and all will be chaos until our 3 o’clock meal. After that I think we’ll all be sufficiently stuffed and want to lounge on the couch. We are still on for Friday night, though, right? I’ve been told by Santana that this place is the place to go on a Friday night.”

Mercedes nudged him as she spied his red luggage, sticking out like a flamingo amongst sparrows, and he retrieved it.

“Yes, of course! That place is all Santana can talk about in her emails. I am so glad that she found a job she loves. She said that her boss is really nice, lets her sing, and can deal with her attitude. The man must be a SAINT!” Mercedes grinned devilishly as they reached the curb and readied to part ways. Kurt noticed his dad’s familiar red truck and waved as he hugged Mercedes with one arm.

“Alright, then, I will text you and we can make a plan for Friday! See you then, ‘Cedes!”

“Will do. Love you, boo.”

***
Thursday passed in a rush of hugs, food, and love and Kurt reveled in the feeling of completeness he had while here with his family. Elora was ecstatic to see him (“Can I read to you Uncle Kurt?” “How are the dresses in the play, Uncle Kurt?” “Didja find a boy you like yet, Uncle Kurt?” – he had given Finn the eyebrow at that last one and his brother had the audacity to laugh) and spent her day glued to his side. No one cared, though, and soon enough it was Friday afternoon and Kurt was assembling his outfit for the evening and responding to texts from all his old friends. It seemed that their party consisted of 8 revelers this evening: Mercedes, Finn and Harmony, Tina and Artie (home from Chicago to visit with her parents), Brit and Santana (who had hired a babysitter for the evening for once), and himself, of course. Not bad for a thirtieth birthday party.

Carole had surprised him with a cake at lunch, his dad singing tunelessly as Kurt bowed and smiled his thanks. It was turning out to be a pretty wonderful day.

***
Blaine was sitting at the desk in his office, the club below him quietly getting ready for another Friday night. He doesn’t really need to be here yet. The club doesn’t open for another hour and his assistant manager, Shelly, is already running the show down there. Mostly Blaine just wanted to check in with the new DJ and make sure she had everything she needed for her first night. Blaine had heard her in Toledo a few weeks ago and a phone call and dinner had sealed the deal for her appearance tonight and he hoped his clientele would find her as kick ass as he did. He was about to head downstairs when his cell phone rang. Capping his pen he glanced at the screen and grinned.

“Aren’t you OFF tonight?” he laughed into his phone.

“Shut up, Anderson, you know I come to that club whether I’m working or not!” replied his manager.

Santana had been instrumental in the running of his club since its inception. He had interviewed her first and had never needed to meet another applicant. She was smart, funny, and didn’t mess around when it came to customers that may have had too much to drink. Her numbers were never off, either, and he had become fast friends with her and her wife, Brit. He even babysat Cecila when they needed to go out and have some non-toddler time. She was the closest to a best friend he had ever had.

He focused on her voice, a smile plastered to his face.

“Anyway, remember that you said you would stick around for a while tonight because I’m coming in with a bunch of friends and Brit. We’ve got a date night, bitch! Besides that, though, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Blaine took a step back as if Santana was here and she could actually see his surprise. San never tried to fix people up. Or at least she had never tried to fix him up before. His stomach flipped and spontaneously started to twist itself into knots. I don’t know how to do this he thought to himself. It’s not like Blaine was asexual. He just didn’t have much experience to go by. He had kissed two men in his life, and one had been at 15 on a doorstep. The other was at a chance party in grad school and had ended up with Blaine excusing himself, drunk and embarrassed, because he had well, found completion while heavily grinding for the first time in his adult life. He never knew the man’s name.

These experiences (and, um, self-gratification) were his only experiences in this arena. He groaned at how pathetic his sexual prowess was and to say he felt nervous was an understatement.

Santana heard this and realized she had completely freaked her boss – and best friend – out.

“Blaine. BLAINE. Listen to me. You are going to go home. You are going to put on some nice clothes for dancing, and you are going to come and meet me at the club in two hours with no worries and no expectations. Just be the wonderful man that I work for and love. Or I’ll have to kick your ass.”

Blaine had to smile at that. This was his San – she truly cared for him but had to cover it up with a threat that both of them knew she would never follow through on.

“Fine, San. But don’t tell him I own the place, okay? “

Santana smiled. She had him now.

“Ok, Boss. Don’t ruin it by freaking out. We’re all just gonna have a good time.”

***

Kurt had been pleasantly surprised when they arrived at Eclectic. The outside of the two-story building was black painted brick with maroon accents on all the windows and door frames. He had admired the door itself as well – wrought-iron with a handle that curled up under your fingers mimicking vines. The inside was amazing, too. The entryway was open with a coat room on the left and the hostess on the right. There was a loft area high above the dance floor and stage with a double-width staircase (also iron) leading up to it from the far corner. Lights were suspended from the loft and the ceiling two stories above next to what looked to be a gigantic circular skylight in the center. It appeared to be filled with glass that was pulsating color. The walls were draped with gauzy black material, but Santana had mentioned that it all changed nightly and he had wondered aloud what it looked like on other nights. She had smirked and told him he would need to come back and see sometime.

He wanted a word with whoever had designed the place, because he was smitten.

They had been there an hour, excitedly greeting one another and securing two circular high tables far enough from the music to hear each other talk but close enough to get on the dance floor at a whim. The house was packed and the music was thumping while everyone laughed and caught up on the direction their lives had taken. Kurt just sipped his strawberry cosmo and smiled. He wasn’t drinking enough to get drunk tonight; he was already drunk on memories and sincere love for these people. He missed them so very much.

Finn and Harmony were on the dance floor with Mercedes while Tina and Brittany took turns spinning Artie and laughing when Kurt noticed the man. He was three tables away, sipping a beer and calmly observing their table. He had short-ish dark curly hair which wasn’t overtly styled but suited him well, thin black wire-frame glasses, and just enough stubble to attract attention. His look was stylish yet simple – short-sleeved black button-up that clung in all the right places (Kurt tried not to notice his chest and arms too much), dark tailored jeans that hugged his body, and black refined-wear doc martins. His collar was open just enough that Kurt could see some kind of dark band at the base of his throat.

Damn. Just…damn. Hello, Ohio. When did you get so hot?

Out of the corner of her eye Santana watched as Kurt fell right into her trap. She smirked to herself as she watched them see each other for the first time. Oh, this is so easy, she thought and made her move.

***
Blaine had been watching them for a while. He couldn’t believe Santana. He sat at his table, nursing his Sam Adams and debating whether or not to leave before she could decide to humiliate and embarrass them all.

That was the man she intended to introduce him to?

A man that could pull of a silver mesh shirt, practically painted on black pants and black leather boots that reached his knees would NOT be interested in meeting him. He felt a twinge of shame as he remembered feeling like he maybe looked pretty good tonight as he checked his mirror one last time before leaving his silent and still home.

Compared to San’s friend, though, he was seriously reconsidering his agreement to this plan.

No one that beautiful would ever be interested in him.

***
“Come on, Kurt. Up! There’s someone I want you to meet!”

Kurt tore his eyes away from the man and hopped off his stool, following Santana as she led him…a lump formed in his throat when he realized she was leading them straight toward him. What a sweet deal he thought to himself, as they reached the table in question.

The man stood up and Kurt noticed three things. First, that he was shorter than he thought he would be (not that it mattered…and he did have his 2 inch boots on, which was helping nothing), second the thing around his neck was intricately braided leather and held some kind of silver pendant that Kurt wanted to explore more closely and third…well, third took his breath away. The man had the most amazing eyes he had ever seen. He couldn’t pin down the color in this light, the club’s display moving and changing, playing tricks on his senses. But they were beautiful and deep, expressing curiosity and…something else Kurt couldn’t quite place yet.

Damn, Ohio. You’re not just hot you are interesting. Kurt tried to keep his wits about him as Santana spoke.

“Ok, boys, enough checking out each other from ten paces. What is this? A western novel? Blaine Anderson, meet Kurt Hummel. Kurt and I went to high school together and may have been involved in a little singing club that you competed against once upon a time. He lives in New York and thinks he’s famous. Or people tell him he is. Whatever. Kurt, this is Blaine. Blaine is a tax attorney by day – well, fewer and fewer days, actually – and, well, he’s here tonight. He happens to be my best friend, too. So watch it.” Santana took a breath and looked between the two before hip checking them both and saying, “And I think you guys should dance. You’re both fucking fantastic and you should get to know each other.”

With that she took her leave and joined her wife in the dance floor.

Blaine and Kurt both watched her go and then shuffled slightly, facing each other.

Blaine spoke first.

“Well. That was an interesting introduction,” he said with a smile.

Kurt felt like the air had been taken from him somehow. No one was allowed to look at that good when they smiled. Blaine’s smile lit up his eyes, crinkling the corners, and his whole face was open to Kurt. He didn’t know how to talk. He had been around literally hundreds of men and no one had made him react like this. Like his skin wasn’t on quite right, tingling and electric. He felt like he was in high school again, unable to get out of his own way, his thoughts all jumbled.

He realized he was taking too long to respond when Blaine’s right hand reached up to curl behind his neck, rubbing at it where skin met hairline while he gave a nervous chuckle.

“My god, I have no idea where I left my manners. I should probably go back to my table because I’m sure that's where they are,” Kurt responded, reaching out his hand for a shake. Blaine grasped his hand and Kurt couldn’t help but look down, transfixed by this man’s gentle but sure touch.

Oh, Ohio –Blaine – you are going to be the death of me.

“What do you say, Kurt?” Blaine asked, mustering more courage than he actually felt. “Want to dance?”

“Oh hell yes,” he replied and dragged Blaine to the floor by their hands that were still intertwined.