There wasn’t much chance that Kurt could take much time off from his internship to go, but that was why weekends existed. He was just glad that Ohio was so close, that flights were short, and that he could finagle a Monday morning off to make sure he could get from the airport to his apartment and in to Vogue after his flight back. Ticket prices were a little steep, considering how spur of the moment he was being, but his dad was so ecstatic that he was coming home that he offered to help foot the bill.

Lima wasn’t exactly a place that held much for Kurt. It had his dad, their home, but that was about it. Most of his memories from that city were not the most pleasant. He’d tried to get out of it as long as he could remember, and he knew he’d felt like a serious weight was lifted off his shoulders when he’d actually managed to do it. It might not have happened in the way he imagined, but he had no qualms with how he ended up.

His dad had tried to insist on driving into Columbus to pick him up from the airport, but that hadn’t made any sense. Kurt rented a car to take to Lima, because he was going to have to go back to Columbus to fly home to New York anyway, and there was no reason for his dad to have to drive him back and forth. He had a business to run, and Kurt didn’t plan on pulling him away from it more than was necessary.

Any distain he felt toward Lima, Ohio was completely pushed into the back of his mind as soon as he got out of the car and was greeted with a bone crushing hug from his dad. It was one of those things he didn’t realize he missed until he had it again. There weren’t any words exchanged for the first several minutes, just the longest hug of his life. Maybe he’d stayed away for a bit too long, but it hadn’t entirely been intentional. Hours were long at Vogue, and it was easy to get swept up in the pace of the city and not realize that much existed outside of it.

His Saturday was spent much like they had been when he was little – sitting in Hummel Tire & Lube and keeping himself occupied while his dad worked. One of the guys who was supposed to work that day had come up sick, and his dad had protested about having to go in because it wasn’t like Kurt came home every day, but Kurt placated him by agreeing to go in too. After all, he could talk to him about what was going on in New York just as well at the shop as he could in their living room.

There may have been more background noise, and a little bit of preoccupation because of the work being done, but conversation happened all the same. Kurt sat perched on a workbench, occasionally fetching tools that his dad requested, but mostly waxing poetic about his life in the city. As frustratingly busy as it could seem sometimes, it was easy to turn the hustle and bustle into something that sounded pleasant. He really didn’t have much to complain about, as fortunate as he’d been with his internship, so he didn’t like to be negative about the workload. It was all working toward a better future, after all.

While his dad tended to err more on the simpler side of things, he’d dealt with enough of Kurt discussion fashion for years to know a little of what he was talking about. Once Kurt had gone off to Parsons, it was like more and more started creeping into his dad’s vocabulary, and it still startled him sometimes when words like ‘empire waist’ and ‘chiffon’ would come out of his dad’s mouth. Or maybe it was just the fact that they were shouted out from underneath a car, when all he could see of his dad were his clunky, worn boots and the bottoms of his coveralls.

Being home in Lima was more comforting than he remembered. There was something to be said about the bed he’d slept in for the majority of his life, actual darkness at night instead of the steady glow of the city, and quiet. Actual quiet. Waking up to the sound of floorboards creaking instead of loud neighbors or car horns. By the second morning of waking up peaceably after a quiet night’s sleep, Kurt wasn’t sure if he’d be able to deal with the sounds of New York at night. That always happened when he visited home, which generally only happened on holidays. Getting back to the city was jarring to his senses.

Sunday was spent almost exclusively shut up in the house. Kurt had talked on and on about New York the entire day prior, and Sunday was when his dad caught him up on everything that had been happening around Lima. It was a small city, but he tended to hear about more than most considering how many people came through the shop every week. His dad wasn’t exactly a gossip but he tended to remember what he heard, and he passed on any stories about people Kurt knew from school.

By the time Kurt left Lima and headed back for Columbus, as late as he could manage to stay with still leaving enough time to make the drive comfortably, he wished he had more time. He never felt homesick except always right after he left, and that was mostly just because he missed spending time with his dad. Once he was through his internship and working his way up through the industry, when he finally got to the point where he could set his own hours and plan his own schedule, he knew he would be able to visit more often.

It was dark already when he arrived in the capital city, and he went straight to his hotel. He’d gotten one downtown, not near the airport, for maximum proximity to the Big Bang. It was just a few blocks away, not even as far as the one in New York was from the subway stop closest. After checking into his room, he changed his clothes. He’d felt so silly, packing an outfit specifically for going to the bar, but the thing was that he was going to be seeing Blaine – actually seeing him for the first time since that first time – and he didn’t want to look anything less than his best.

Columbus was so quiet compared to New York, though clearly louder than Lima. The lack of people on the city streets was surprising, but Kurt enjoyed not being jostled around as he walked down the sidewalk in the direction of the bar. It was in the middle of the Arena District, where there actually were people, but there was pleasantly no line to wait in before he was allowed in. He’d considered texting Blaine, to make sure he was working, but by that point he was aware that if it was a night between Wednesday and Sunday, he would be, and that meant that he wouldn’t necessarily have access to his phone.

The inside looked so similar to the one in New York that Kurt almost forgot that he wasn’t there, until he walked up to the bar and it was someone other than Brittany who was asking what he wanted to drink.

“Just a vodka tonic, please. With lime.” It wasn’t Blaine on the stage, or Santana, and Kurt honestly felt nervous. He hadn’t completely thought it through, which he was just realizing as he stood there waiting for his drink. Other than going there, he had no plan. What if he was overstepping? What if Blaine thought it was creepy or stalker-ish that he’d just shown up there? It’s not like it could be played off as a coincidence – he wasn’t even in the right state.

“Did you want to start a tab?”

“Sure.” Kurt dug out his wallet and slid him his card, taking a long sip of his drink. He was in the middle of putting his wallet back in his pocket when he got bumped into, light enough that it didn’t do any damage but still enough for him to notice. His stomach lurched when he saw it was Santana who’d done it, but she wasn’t paying attention enough to notice or just plain didn’t care.

“Hey, Trouty!” she called to the bartender, leaning up against the counter and offering him a smile. “Can I get some shots? One Jack, one Jameson?”

“Only if you admit that you love me,” he replied, but he was already setting up the shot glasses and reaching for the bottles of whiskey.

“While I do have a thing for hot blonde bartenders,” she teased, earning a grin from him, “you know better than that.”

“My heart,” he sighed, nudging the shots her way and shaking his head as she took them and disappeared into the crowd. He saw Kurt watching and shrugged. “It’s hopeless, but I can’t resist.”

“I can’t blame you,” Kurt replied, as if he could sympathize. It wasn’t like he couldn’t – wanting what he couldn’t have or couldn’t get, he was familiar with those feelings.

“I’m Sam, by the way. Just give me a holler if you want another one. It’s a kind of slow night but, you know, Sunday,” he said, giving him a nod. “Doesn’t stop the music from being good!”

“Thanks, Sam.” Kurt took his drink to one of the tables by the railing, pulling out his cell phone for something to look at, to keep himself from trying to find Blaine. The reception was terrible – bad enough that his email wouldn’t load – and he considered going up to the street level to send his dad a text to let him know that he’d made it, because he’d forgotten to do so when he got there, when he heard the performers on stage introducing their replacements.

Blaine looked even more amazing that Kurt remembered, a feat he’d thought was impossible. Then again, maybe it had something to do with the tight polo shirt he was wearing, complete with one of the bow ties Kurt had made him. He was just mesmerizing, really, with the way his hair seemed like it had been perfectly styled when the night started but curls had slowly started to make their escape, and the way Kurt could see him fighting off laughter from whatever Santana was saying in how the corners of his mouth were twitching and he was pursing his lips.

Kurt finished his drink before their first song was done, because he’d needed something to do that wasn’t staring at Blaine and being the most obvious person in the world. He forced himself to step away and go back to the bar, listening to the soft crooning of a ballad someone had requested. Blaine’s voice was so velvet smooth and full, Kurt could have lost himself in listening. He wanted to, but he also wanted to be able to form complete sentences when he actually got to talk to Blaine and that wouldn’t happen if he let himself drown in the music coming from him.

“Same thing?” Sam asked, taking his empty glass from him and holding it up. “Changing it up?”

“Could I get – oh, hang on,” Kurt said, furrowing his brow as he tried to remember what Brittany had told him was in her unicorn drink. “Vodka, triple sec, orange juice and then a little bit of lime?” Sam blinked, then stared, and Kurt frowned. “What?”

“Sorry, I’ve just never heard of anyone drinking that except San,” he said, nodding toward the stage as he grabbed a clean glass and got to work. “Well, she’s the only person that’s ever asked me to make it before. Either I’m missing something or it’s an awesome coincidence.”

“Coincidence, I guess,” Kurt murmured, glancing over his shoulder at the stage just in time to see Santana toss a balled up slip of paper and hit Blaine square in the forehead. He crossed his eyes in response, but didn’t miss a note, and he really was just painfully adorable.

“Do you want a cherry?” Sam asked, setting the glass down in front of him and drawing his attention away from the stage. “I only ask because Santana always does.”

“Yes please.” He glanced down as Sam dropped a couple cherries on top, and he wrapped his hands around the glass to pull it in closer. “Thanks, Sam.”

“No problem!” Kurt lingered by the bar, almost like it was his comfort zone. It kind of was, at least that’s what it was in New York. He was used to being able to stay and lean and making passing conversation with Brittany in the lulls between customers. Sam seemed nice, but Kurt wasn’t about to start making small talk with him. He just liked the familiarity of being there at the counter, and he felt much less conspicuous.

“One song warning for the Big Bang Gang,” Santana announced into her microphone a few songs later, raising her glass in a mock toast.

“I am super impressed, Santana,” Blaine said, laughing. “I can’t remember the last time you said that right the first time.”

“Yes, well, I don’t think these people came out here on a Sunday night to see a big gang bang,” Santana replied dryly, taking a sip of her drink before setting her glass down. “Anyway, one song warning!”

“If you need a refill, I’ll be back in a few,” Sam told Kurt as he squeezed by him and headed up toward the stage. It seemed like all the servers were headed that way, and Kurt moved back up to the table he’d abandoned to get a better view of whatever was going to happen.

The song ended and the staff essentially flooded the stage, some, including Sam, hopping up on top of the pianos and the rest lining up across the front. Kurt had never seen them do anything like that in New York, and he was sure he would have noticed even if he hadn’t been paying attention because Brittany would have disappeared. Then again, he didn’t go that often, and usually on nights in the middle of the week.

What ended up happening was a loosely choreographed dance while Blaine and Santana belted out ‘Footloose.’ Most of the staff seemed to be enjoying themselves, some more than others, and Sam seemed to have a particular affinity for body rolls. Kurt nearly choked on his drink laughing when Blaine reached up to smack the back of his leg and give him a look in the middle of the chorus. Sam just rolled his eyes and went back to doing the same dance moves as everyone else, but still with his own added flair.

“Thanks, Big Bang Gang,” Blaine said once the song was over, and Kurt clapped along with the rest of the crowd. He was going to have to ask Brittany if they ever did that in New York, and if not, why? “We’re going to keep the band up here and play one or two more for you before our colleagues come back.” Kurt could have sworn that their eyes met when Blaine looked out over the tables, but he couldn’t be sure. “Keep the requests coming!”

Santana launched them into ‘Bad Romance’ and Kurt finished off his drink, taking the glass back to the bar and shaking his head when Sam offered to make him another one. He was feeling a little warm, but in that way that wasn’t quite tingly, and he didn’t want to nervously drink himself into tipsiness. Besides, he didn’t think more alcohol would be a good idea with the way his stomach felt like it was twisting itself into knots. He checked his phone again, more out of habit than anything else since he knew he didn’t have any service.

“Thank you, we’ll see you in a bit!” Santana said once they were done with their last song and had reintroduced themselves before handing over the keys to their replacements. Kurt’s mouth felt dry, and he leaned up on the counter to ask Sam for a glass of water.

“Sure, two seconds,” Sam replied absently, popping the cap off a bottle of beer and passing it over to one of the other customers.

“Kurt?” He barely had a chance to turn around before Blaine’s arms were around him, hugging him tight and like he wasn’t going to let go. Kurt returned the gesture automatically, swaying on his feet as he took in the sweet, light smell of cologne and hair gel and sweat. “I thought that was you, but I didn’t—what are you doing here?”

Blaine pulled back and looked up at him, eyes wide and questioning, but his hands were still resting on Kurt’s waist, almost like he needed to make sure he was there and the only way to do that was by keeping hold of him. He was so, so close, and Kurt’s arms stayed looped around his shoulders, his hands taking in the soft fabric of his shirt. Blaine took a step back quickly, hands flying up away from Kurt. “Oh, I am so sorry, I’m gross and sweaty and you look so nice.”

“It’s okay,” Kurt said, shaking his head, wishing they could go back to hugging again. Blaine had felt so warm and firm against him, arms so tight around him, and it had been a long time since he’d felt so wrapped up in someone like that. “Do you have stuff you need to do?”

“No, I’m all yours,” Blaine replied, his fingers wrapping gently around Kurt’s wrist as he looked back over his shoulder toward the stairs. “Come on, let’s go get some air.” Kurt let Blaine lead him over, taking him up the steps and back out to the arena plaza that was at street level. The air felt crisp and cool compared to the heavy heat down in the bar, and as soon as they got outside, Blaine turned to face him, not letting go. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Kurt repeated, smiling softly. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Yes, let’s talk about that,” Blaine said, stepping in a little closer to smooth down the lapel of Kurt’s jacket. “You’re here.”

“I’m here. Nice bow tie.”

“Thanks, some fancy up and coming designer in New York made it for me,” Blaine teased, his gaze flickering up to meet Kurt’s. “One of a kind. I know you’re jealous, but you can’t have it. You’re here.”

“I thought we covered that already,” Kurt quipped, tilting his head as he looked down at him. They were so close and all he wanted to do was close that gap between them. “I’m here, you’re here, I’m Kurt, you’re Blaine… what are the other basics that need reiterated?”

“Kurt.” Blaine reached up and his thumb brushed lightly against Kurt’s jaw, and Kurt drew in a sharp breath. “Sorry, I…” he drew his hand away and rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a nervous sounding laugh. “I just need a minute to let it sink in that this is real.”

“Of course it’s real. Do you hallucinate often?”

“No, but I dream,” Blaine said, and that caught Kurt off guard. He was looking up at him so earnestly, his thumb tracing absent circles against Kurt’s wrist, and Kurt couldn’t do much other than swallow hard and stare at him. “I’ve dreamt so many times that you would just walk in here one night, that I’d actually get to see you again. I know eventually I would have ended up back in New York, though who knows when, but you’re… here. In my dreams it was always here.”

“Blaine…”

“You’re here.”

“I’m flying out in the morning,” Kurt whispered, hating that he had to say it but wanting to be honest.

“That’s not fair.”

“You did it to me first.” Blaine closed his eyes, shaking his head a little. “Well you did.”

“Does this mean you’re going to stay out all night drinking coffee with me?” Blaine asked, looking up at him through his eyelashes. On the running list of things that weren’t fair, Kurt was sure that look belonged right at the top.

“There are no 24-hour diners in downtown Columbus, Blaine,” Kurt said, making an assumption but he was fairly certain he was right. The heart of downtown was pretty much dead when it wasn’t a weekday during business hours, as far as he could remember from his limited experiences there, and diners weren’t exactly the most Midwest thing out there.

“We could find a way.”

“Blaine.”

“Shhh, we’ll find a way. It’s only fair.” Blaine bit his lip, nodding. “You should have told me you were coming. I would have put your name on the list so you wouldn’t have had to pay to get in.”

“I really don’t mind,” Kurt said, his breath catching a little as Blaine fingers traced over the brooch he was wearing. It was a squid, one of his favorite accessories, and he loved it even more with how Blaine was smiling as his fingertips trailed along the tentacles. “You could make up for it with buying me a drink, though.”

“Does it lose some of the effect when I would be getting it for free?” Blaine asked, and Kurt shook his head. “Oh good. I mean, I would do it anyway, but I can’t remember the last time I actually bought a drink.” He took a small step back and sighed. “I know that it’s kind of what you do, but Kurt, you look so amazing. Your clothes,” he corrected quickly. “Your clothes look amazing.”

“But not the rest of me?” Kurt pouted, pulling his hand away from where Blaine had still been holding onto his wrist. “Ouch.”

“No, hey,” Blaine said, his hands moving up to cup Kurt’s face between them. It was a gesture that seemed to catch them both off guard, but he didn’t pull away. “Of course the rest of you does, I was just specifically talking about the clothes. I’m just assuming you always look this good, because I have no proof to the contrary. Of course you look amazing.”

Kurt couldn’t stop himself, not with the way Blaine’s thumbs were brushing so lightly over his cheekbones and his fingers were splayed across his jaw. Those fingers were the same ones that had been holding onto him so tightly in a hug, down in the bar, and were the same ones that pounded against the keys of a piano five nights a week to make music that Kurt wanted to soak in as well as he could. And they were holding his face like it was the most precious thing they’d ever touched, so he just couldn’t keep himself from leaning in and closing the distance, pressing a kiss against Blaine’s mouth.