When Kurt awoke the next morning Blaine was already up, and Kurt heard him in the bathroom across the hall, humming. Part of Kurt was glad that Blaine wasn't still in bed when he woke up, since the morning after conversation wasn't one of Kurt's strengths (not that he did it that often). He laid flat on his back and inventoried his feelings. He couldn't believe that he could be so sexually satisfied by simply satisfying someone else. It shouldn't have been gratifying, but it was. Also, Kurt didn't want to run, so that was new. And, if he was honest, he was looking forward to seeing Blaine when he finally emerged from the bathroom. That was new, too.

Clearly, they hadn't had enough sex to get Blaine out of Kurt's system. Well, Kurt could remedy that. Before they left Chicago, they were hitting a drug store.

In the bathroom, Blaine was alternating between elation and worry. Last night with Kurt was amazing, but now what? Would Kurt want him to continue on the trip (Blaine didn't actually know where they were going next and he purposely did not ask), or was Kurt done with him? When Blaine replayed the last night's sex scene, he was surprised at Kurt's generosity as a lover; it was at odds with the way that Kurt's friends depicted him. At the same time, Blaine worried that Kurt didn't want Blaine to continue with their lovemaking after he had come because Blaine was so inept as a lover. Maybe Kurt could sense it in the inexpert ways that Blaine kissed and touched him. He sighed as he scraped the last of the shaving cream from his face with his razor. Maybe he should check his laptop for flight schedules from Chicago.

Blaine adjusted the collar on his sweater, swept out of the steamy bathroom, and crossed the hall to the little bedroom. Kurt was standing beside the bed, his hands full with toiletries and towels. Despite that, when Blaine closed the bedroom door with a soft, “Good morning,” Kurt crowded Blaine up against the door and kissed him full on the lips, no hands.

“Morning,” Kurt smiled back. He looked Blaine square in his eyes which were slightly widened from surprise, “Blaine Anderson, will you come to Omaha with me?”

Blaine chuckled, relieved, “Yes. Yes, Kurt Hummel, I will accompany you to Omaha.”

Kurt kissed him again, longer this time, with tongue.

“Wow, the anticipation of Nebraska has quite an effect on you,” Blaine joked.

Kurt waggled his eyebrows, “You have no idea how much cornhuskers turn me on.” With that, he nodded toward the door, which Blaine opened for him, and he swept across the hall into the bathroom.

In the quiet of the room, Blaine let out a very girly squeal and did a completely spastic dance of the kind he only did when absolutely no one was watching.

A few hours later they were back on the road. “Now, who's Rachel?” asked Blaine.

“Rachel is…indescribable. We went to school together, and then we were roommates in college which she never finished because she ended up being disgustingly successful in her career the minute she got to New York, starting with starring in the revival of Funny Girl. She is a diva with a capital D, but she can also be really sweet, as long as you don't threaten her.”

“So, what's she doing in Omaha?”

“Oh. She's starring in a traveling Broadway production of Wicked. I texted her that I was bringing a date, and she assured me she could get two tickets for tonight's performance. She also got us a room tonight in the same hotel where she's staying. She offered to get us two rooms, but, I figured, hey, why break our streak. But maybe we'll get two beds.”

I hope not, Blaine thought, unnaturally pleased about sharing a room with Kurt.

For the next several hours the two men passed the time talking about high school and college. Kurt described himself in high school as an immature freak trying desperately to be noticed and loved and going a little over the top in the process. Blaine described himself as a regular guy with a lot of friends, which Kurt interpreted as extremely popular.

When they talked about their dating life in high school (which was non-existent for Kurt), Blaine said that a lot of guys liked him, “but not in that way.” Sebastian was a revelation because he was good-looking and popular, and for reasons that Blaine couldn't understand, he pursued Blaine with a single-minded purpose. Blaine was too flattered by the attention to think about resisting.

To this, Kurt simply replied, "Hmmm."

“Why do you think you crushed on so many straight guys in high school?” asked Blaine.

“I dunno. I guess now that I think about it, I figured anyone I asked out would turn me down, and if the guy was straight, it was easier on my ego knowing that it was because he didn't swing that way, rather than because he didn't find me attractive or interesting. So maybe I just set myself up for failure.”

“Why wouldn't they find you attractive or interesting?”

“Um, because I was ugly and weird.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

Kurt sighed. “You're probably right. I probably wasn't that much different than I am now. But when you grow up in a small town, people create ideas about you from the first grade. It's hard to shake that when you get older, because the image of you that was created early on just follows you. Didn't you always wonder why some people who aren't all that attractive or interesting end up being the most popular kids? I think those people set themselves up for success right from first grade.”

Blaine chuckled, “Maybe.”

“What about you? Did you date much before Sebastian?”

“I didn't date at all, really. I took one gay guy to a Sadie Hawkins dance, and afterward we got jumped by a bunch of Neanderthals. After that, I went to boarding school at Dalton, and I knew I didn't have to worry about homophobes, but I did have to worry about rejection, so I just didn't put myself out there. Honestly, I never have.”

“You did a little bit. That was you that grabbed my wrist on the dance floor last night.”

“Yeah. Yes,” Blaine blushed. “I just…well, after last night, you have to know that I'm attracted to you.”

Kurt turned his head and gave Blaine a close-mouthed smile. “Well, you have to know that the feeling is mutual.”

And then it was suddenly awkward.

Fortunately, they had reached Omaha, and Kurt was following the instructions on his GPS to exit now and to turn right in 300 yards. When they rolled to a stop at a red light, Blaine broke the silence by saying, “Uh, if we're going to the theater tonight, we may have to go shopping again.”

At that, Kurt gave Blaine a huge smile, grabbed Blaine by the back of the neck, and pulled him into a loud, smacking kiss. Then the light turned green, and they started moving again.

And then it wasn't awkward any more.

They checked into their hotel room (only one bed!) and unfolded a note from Rachel:

So excited that you're here! Can't wait to meet Blaine!!! See you after the show!

“Does she shout everything?” Blaine asks.

“Not so much shouts as enthuses.”

“Is that even a word?

Kurt gave Blaine the one eyebrow “bitch, please” look, and Blaine put his hands up in the air in surrender.

Then, at Kurt's urging, Blaine took all of his clothes out of his backpack for Kurt's assessment. After looking through everything carefully mumbling, “No, no, no,” under his breath, Kurt finally declared that only the shoes from the night before were theater-worthy “even in Omaha,” and that Blaine needed an entirely new outfit.

“I'm going to need a bigger backpack,” Blaine joked.

“We'll buy you a garment bag,” replied Kurt loftily as he swept out of the hotel room, Blaine in tow.

A few hours later, they returned with an assertive window pane sport coat, fitted dress shirt, skinny tie, and slacks. Kurt worried a little bit about the price, but Blaine assured Kurt that he could afford it, and he could wear the clothes to work, which Kurt found puzzling.

“When you said you could wear the clothes to work, what did you mean?” Kurt asked, flopping on the bed against the headboard with his hands behind his head. “You don't have a job, right?”

From the closet where Blaine was hanging up his new clothes he answered, “Oh. In July I'll be working for the family business.”

“What will you be doing?”

“My family owns a string a charter schools. I'll be working at their headquarters in Washington, DC as an administrator.”

“Are you looking forward to it?”

“Not really.” Blaine's voice came from the back of the closet.

“Blaine,” Kurt commanded his companions attention and waited until Blaine had straightened up and was looking at Kurt. “Why would you do it if you don't want to?”

Blaine shrugged, crossed the room, and perched on the edge of the bed. “It isn't really a choice. I was always expected to work in the family business and then take over for my Dad someday. It's a good business; the schools do really great things. It's just…I want to work with my family, but I want to do it in a different way.”

“What do you want to do?”

“In college, I had a double-major in business administration and music education. I like teaching kids. I'd like to teach music to kids. We have a couple of terrific schools where it would be great to teach,” Blaine enthused, but then he shrugged again, “But, anyhow, that's not the plan. So, I'll work in the headquarters, and maybe I can find a volunteer job on the weekends at the Boys and Girls Club or something.”

“Why are you letting your parents plan your life?”

“They're not. It's a family business, Kurt. Family means something to me. You should understand that; Burt and Carole mean something to you. Finn meant enough to you that you wouldn't let me sleep in his room. Someone has to take over the business. What we do is important.”

“Can't someone else take over?”

“No! Maybe. I don't know. This is just…this is the plan. It's always been the plan.”

“Well, your plan sounds kind of stupid.”

“I'm not stupid!” Blaine stood up from the bed.

“I didn't say you were. I'm just saying that maybe you should live your own life.”

“Oh my God, you're just like Sebastian; you judge and criticize me, but you don't even know me! What do you think? Do you think that just because you blow me one time you can tell me how to live my life? Do you think you know what's best for me? How do you know what's good for me, or my family, or all those kids? You don't know anything!” With that, Blaine ran to the bathroom and slammed the door.

Kurt sighed, stood up, and walked to the bathroom door where he knocked gently. Clearly, he had hit a nerve. Hopefully, he could patch this up quickly, “Blaine, I'm sorry. Will you open the door, please?”

“It's open.”

Kurt pushed in on the door to see Blaine sitting on the toilet lid, his head in his hands. Kurt went over to him and threaded his fingers through Blaine's hair. “Hey. Shhhhh. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. It's none of my business”

“It's okay,” Blaine said, but he didn't look up.

“This thing you said about blowing you just one time,” Kurt said in a soft, teasing tone, “Maybe if I blew you more than once…”

Blaine's head shot up, and Kurt realized whatever progress he had made in patching things up had been quickly undone, “Is this what you do, Kurt? Do you use sex as a way to keep your distance from people? When people get too close or the feelings get too uncomfortable, do you just fuck them? Is that what you do?”

“Seriously, Blaine?!”

“Well, is it?”

“Fuck you!” Kurt spun on his heels and slammed the bathroom door on his way out. Then Blaine heard the hotel room door slam, as well.