They chatted amiably about books, music, and movies until Kurt was leaving the interstate and they were pulling up in front of a row of brownstones in Chicago's Lincoln Park neighborhood. Kurt expertly negotiated the world's smallest parallel parking space, and Blaine stepped out of the car and stretched. Then both men grabbed their bags and Blaine followed Kurt up the steps of a turreted brick home.

When the door opened, four of the most beautiful men Blaine had ever seen opened the door. The shortest one—a corn-fed blonde with a mouth so wide it could likely do things Blaine wouldn't allow himself to think about until he was alone—grabbed Kurt into a massive hug and then kissed Kurt squarely on the lips. He was clearly the alpha gay. The other men kissed Kurt more reservedly on both cheeks, but they all looked at Kurt fondly.

An exotic looking black man finally spotted Blaine and cooed, “Oooh. Kurt brought a snack.”

Kurt whacked him playfully with the back of his hand, “Everybody, this is Blaine. Blaine, this is Sam, Rider, Nick, and David.”

Blaine politely shook everyone's hand while Sam let out a low whistle and said in an affected Texas drawl, “Hoo-whee, I never thought I'd see the man who could corral ol' Kurt.”

Rider said, “We were beginning to think Kurt only dated vampires; none of his boy toys ever got to see the light of day.”

“We're not…” Blaine started, but Kurt linked his arm through Blaine's and said in his most queenly manner, “Things change, boys.” Then he swept them all into the house his chin held high.

Sam instructed them to nap, shower, and make themselves at home, cautioning them, “Deliverance at 10—be ready.”

“What does that mean?” Blaine whispered to Kurt.

“Deliverance is the club that the four of them own.”

“Deliverance?”

“Sam's from Kentucky.”

Blaine refrained from pointing out that Deliverance was set in Georgia and followed Kurt with his bags into the guest room which turned out to be a very small room, dominated by a bed that was also small.

“Do you want to nap?” Kurt asked.

Blaine shook his head.

“Shower?”

Blaine shook his head again, “What did your Dad mean about bringing our own food?”

Kurt chuckled, “They're models…well, former models. One of them is always on some crazy diet and he manages to get all the others on board. Last time I stayed here, they were only eating sea kelp and pomegranates.”

Blaine smiled at this, but then his face clouded over, “Kurt, I…I don't think I have anything appropriate to wear to a club.” He indicated his bag. “It wasn't on my list of hitchhiking essentials.”

“Really?” Kurt seemed unnaturally excited by this news. He grabbed Blaine's hand, pulling him out the room. “Come on,” he said over his shoulder, “we're going shopping.”

That was how Blaine found himself in a spacious dressing room in a high-end boutique on Michigan Avenue, trying on ensemble after ensemble that a gracious sales lady brought to him with Kurt's precise instructions of how every one was to be styled. After he put on each outfit, he would leave the dressing room and model for Kurt who would eye him critically and then pronounce, “No,” waving Blaine back into the dressing room. Once Blaine had the temerity to reject an outfit before modeling it for Kurt; he wouldn't be making that mistake again.

Eventually Blaine walked out of the dressing room and Kurt simply stared. Blaine was dressed in straight leg, dark washed jeans, a simple t-shirt, and an open vest.

“Kurt?” Blaine asked tentatively, “How do I look?”

Kurt walked up to Blaine and brushed back a curl that had dislodged during one of Blaine's dozens of clothes changes. “You look amazing,” Kurt said in a soft voice.

Blaine gave a small smile, “This isn't what I usually wear. Are you sure I look good?”

Kurt reached out and put his hands on Blaine's hips, pulling Blaine closer to him. He put his mouth close to Blaine's ear and said in a low voice, “I'm sure.”

Blaine shivered.