"This is so exciting!" Kurt squealed. He lifted a box filled with something lightweight and placed it in the hallway.
Blaine grunted as he hauled a large, heavy box out of his room and next to the box Kurt just set down. "I'm glad you're having fun, Mr. I-can-only-carry-the-light-boxes," Blaine said. He was panting and sweating in the summer heat.
Kurt gave him sympathetic eyes. "I'm sorry I don't have bulging arm muscles like yours, but it will all be worth it," Kurt said, leaning in to kiss Blaine. Mere days before Blaine's big move to New York, the boys were bringing boxes of Blaine's belongings to the post office to be shipped to the loft.
"It was also worth it to see you pull up in your dad's truck this morning," Blaine said, laughing.
"Well how else would we get the boxes to the post office?" Kurt asked.
"Good point. Let's bring some of these boxes to the truck."
Kurt picked up a somewhat heavy box and began down the stairs.
"Do you need help?" Blaine asked.
Kurt struggled with his handling. "I think I got…" It was too late. The box was tumbling down the stairs and hit the landing at the bottom with a loud crash. "I am so sorry," Kurt said, panicked. He ran down the stairs to see if anything was broken. The box was split open and on the floor, he found Margaret Thatcher dog, a ton of framed photos of the two of them together, and one of Kurt's old sweatshirts that had made it's way into Blaine's possession. Nothing was broken or damaged.
"Um, that was the Kurt box," Blaine said shyly.
Kurt leaned over and kissed Blaine. "This is so sweet. I'm so happy this is all coming to New York with us," Kurt said.
"I'll go get the tape," Blaine said. He taped up the box and they went to the post office, mailing away their future, with the obligatory ice cream pit stop afterwards.