"New York?" Kurt looked from the printed itinerary in his hand to his father's smiling face and back again.

"Well, I have to go meet with some people from the party, so I thought it'd be great to take a little trip, just the two of us. You know, before you...fall out of the nest or whatever Carole would call it. We can visit NYADA, see some sights, maybe go to a show?"

Kurt's mouth dropped open. "Really?"

Burt shrugged. "Why not? I think I might have a connection or two who could get us some pretty nice seats."

Inside Kurt's head, excitement was doing battle with practicality. "But...school?"

Burt clapped Kurt on the shoulder. "C'mon. You've been working hard. You can miss a couple of days. What do you think?"

Kurt thought that this might be exactly what he needed. Over the past few weeks, life had gone completely and depressingly back to normal, and everything felt a little gray after the intensity that had gone before. The brief, crazy period of New Directions' intersection with the rarified air of Dalton Academy was over and, it seemed, forgotten. Everyone had returned to the routine of glee club practices and homework and studying and college applications. And if Kurt sometimes tortured himself late at night watching Warbler videos on YouTube, well, he knew for a fact he wasn't doing it as often as Mercedes.

At least he had that last phone conversation with George to relive whenever he needed entertainment. He'd taken out every ounce of his anger and frustration and outraged sense of fair play on George's stunned, sleepy ass and he'd loved it. By the time George woke up enough to get angry himself Kurt was done, signing off with a curt "Stay away from me and stay away from Sebastian" and hanging up on George mid-sentence.

A few weeks after that disastrous night, Kurt and Rachel had gotten the letters notifying them that they were NYADA finalists. That was a sign, he told himself, that it was time to stop dwelling on everything that might have been with Sebastian and start thinking about his future. So maybe a trip with his dad was exactly what he needed to jumpstart the rest of his life. He and his dad in the big city, creating new memories in his future home. A place with no reminders of Sebastian to trip him up.

He grinned at his dad. "I think we're going to New York!

They flew to New York on a Wednesday, and on Thursday they visited the NYADA campus. Kurt fell immediately and completely in love with the dark paneled dance studios with their huge windows and the acoustically perfect performance spaces. But even more than the beautiful buildings, he was overwhelmed by the students - pacing hallways singing warm-up scales and stretching outside classrooms; he stood for several minutes watching with alarm as a pair of students argued loudly in a courtyard, wondering why no one came to separate them, before he realized that they were practicing a scene for a drama class. He almost cried then - acting and singing and dancing, all the things that were ridiculed so roundly at McKinley, were these students' daily lives, morning to night. It made him want more than ever to be a part of it all.

Friday they did the city. Kurt dragged his dad from the top of the Empire State Building to the feet of the Statue of Liberty. They bought t-shirts and caps and souvenir magnets and generally acted like the most stereotypical of mid-western tourists. By the end of the day Kurt had a bag full of silly knick-knacks for his friends at home and Burt had collected more kitschy presents than Carole was going to know what to do with.

That night Kurt saw his very first Broadway play, Wicked, of course. Burt, who would never have used his position as a Congressman for his own benefit, had no problem making sure Kurt had orchestra seats for his favorite musical and a chance to go backstage and meet the cast after the show. Incredible didn't even begin to describe it.

Saturday morning Burt had meetings, and Kurt had one last thing he needed to do before they went home the next day. His dad offered to go with him, if he wanted to wait, but this was something Kurt felt he needed to do alone, and Burt understood. He boarded the A train, heading north, feeling at the same time both very adult and very much like a little boy.

"Another interesting thing to note about most of these paintings is that the Christ child, although clearly meant to be an infant, is presented with the anatomical proportions of an adult, rather than those of a baby. He also shows an awareness of his surroundings beyond that of an infant. This was an artist's way of indicating . . ."

"That he was a midget in disguise?" Sebastian whispered in his mother's ear. She elbowed him sharply but he caught the chuckle she suppressed before she managed to pull her face into a disapproving severity.

"I'm trying to listen," she whispered back.

"Whatever floats your boat," Sebastian sighed. He was usually okay with museums, but apparently the Cloisters was exactly what it sounded like - a place for people with nothing better to do than to think about God. The droning guide himself had said that was pretty much the only thing Medieval people made art about. And he was doing nothing to make it any more interesting.

"It's especially important to note, in this painting, the way the light seems to emit from the child's face. This technique was . . ."

He really couldn't be expected to listen to any more of this. While the group's attention was focused raptly on the tiny detail the guide was pointing out, he slipped through a doorway into another room and began searching for "Exit" signs. If he was lucky he'd find his way to the cafe and could at least check his e-mail and play Angry Birds over a cup of terrible coffee. His mom would text him if she couldn't find him. God bless modern technology.

He followed the signs through three more rooms, all full of the requisite Madonna and Child or Crucifixion paintings (and shit, could those Medieval artists think up some gruesome ways to depict death) before a huge splash of color caught his eye and he turned from the exit path, just for a moment, to peek into what turned out to be a large gallery with walls covered completely by hangings - tapestries of some kind. Even he could admit they were pretty, and there were benches in the room, and it was quieter than the cafeteria would be; there was only one other person, sitting and staring at one of the panels. Sebastian was just resolving to hang out here until his mom caught up with him when the other person sighed and shifted in a way that was hauntingly familiar.

He really looked, then, at the straight-backed figure, the perfect posture, the beautifully cut shirt, the light brown hair close-cropped against the nape of his neck...Sebastian had to stifle a groan because he really thought he'd finally gotten over the stage where he saw him everywhere he looked, picked him out in crowds where he didn't exist, caught glimpses of him turning corners. No. He'd completely put Kurt behind him and there was no way that was him, sitting here in a museum, in New York, staring at a picture of a unicorn.

Except he was pretty sure it was.

He should have simply walked away, powered on ahead to the cafeteria with its wifi and terrible coffee. But he could already feel the pull, like a magnet, and he was moving closer instead, coming around the end of the bench, staring as that face inevitably slid more and more into view. He didn't believe in fate, but this was one hell of a coincidence.

"Kurt?"

Kurt jumped a little, turned sharply, and finally there were his eyes, blue, blue eyes opening wide in surprise, brimming just a little with tears.

"Sebastian?"

Tears. Fuck. "Oh God, I'm sorry," Sebastian fumbled, "I . . . I'll leave you alone . . ."

"Don't go!" Kurt voice was louder than it should have been in the quiet room. He sounded almost desperate. Which didn't make sense but when Sebastian turned back to him Kurt was standing up, wiping at his eyes and smiling. "I mean, unless you want to."

"No, no I just, I don't want to interrupt . . ."

"You're not." Kurt moved further down the bench and sat again, still smiling an invitation. Sebastian sat next to him, keeping a careful distance between them.

For a minute it was just silence. There were a hundred things Sebastian knew he should say. What brings you to New York? I never knew you were a fan of Medieval art. Tons of stupid, inane things that he couldn't imagine actually leaving his mouth with Kurt sitting next to him, getting weepy over a tapestry. But the things he really wanted to say were completely out of the question. And the longer he sat in silence the more likely it was that he was going to blurt out one of them.

"So," he finally said, waving his hand at the unicorns decorating the walls, "this is stereotypical even for you."

He regretted it as soon as he said it, but Kurt laughed, loud and unexpected, and his hand flew to his mouth to stifle it. And shit, was that endearing or what? No. Not endearing, Sebastian told himself firmly. It couldn't be, not any more.

Kurt's other hand, the one not currently touching those lips, reached out to offer something to Sebastian.

It was a locket, sort of, but the front was open filigree and Sebastian could see through it to the picture on the back. At first all he saw was the tiny photo, a pretty woman and a young boy who already had the perfectly arched eyebrows that could only belong to Kurt Hummel. It took him a minute to realize that the front of the locket was a golden reproduction of the tapestry in front of them. A white unicorn kneeling in a tiny enclosure, surrounded by trees and flowers.

"It's beautiful," was all he said as he handed it back. But that made Kurt smile, so it was enough.

"It was my mother's."

"Was?"

Kurt wasn't looking at him any more; he was staring down at the necklace in his hand. "She died when I was eight," he said simply.

"Oh God, I'm sorry..."

Kurt looked up then, and Sebastian was afraid he'd be crying again but his eyes were dry and he was still smiling, if a little sadly. He was struck by the thought that the one person he'd ever felt inclined to take care of was probably stronger than he was. That had to be some kind of fucked up karma. Which he didn't believe in either.

"It's okay. It was a long time ago." Kurt held the necklace up for a second, letting it dangle in front of them, and they both just stared at it. "She found it in her grandparents' attic in Chicago, when she was a little girl. Nobody knew where it came from so she made up a story that it had belonged to a beautiful rich lady, some railroad baron's wife or something. She said it always made her feel special when she wore it." He wrapped the locket up in his hand again and stared at the tapestry in front of them.

Sebastian wished he could think of something to say, anything. He'd imagined running into Kurt a hundred times but the conversation in his head had never included dead mothers and unicorns, and God if there was anything he sucked at more than providing sympathetic comfort he had yet to encounter it. If this was a rom com he'd be ducking out to the bathroom to text David for instructions.

"She didn't find out till she was grown up that the picture was from these tapestries." Kurt was still talking, which was good, if Kurt was talking then Sebastian didn't have to. "She always wanted to come here to see them, but she never had the chance. I came along and then my dad was trying to get the shop started . . . they were actually planning a trip, things were going really well and they thought I was old enough . . . but then she got sick." He looked down again at the locket in his hand, the picture inside. "It went really fast, so we never did manage to bring her here. And I didn't have time when we were here for Nationals, but I did it, this time. Finally."

Sebastian didn't even think about it; his brain really had nothing to do with it at all. His hand just reached over and settled against the back of Kurt's, fingers curling under his palm, and it was awkward and wrong because Kurt was still holding the locket, it pressed between them and he should really just let go, but then Kurt's fingers were curling in turn around his, holding on, clutching, and there was no way Sebastian was going anywhere.

They just sat, holding hands, for what felt like the longest time. Kurt kept waiting for Sebastian to realize what he'd done and pull away, disappear with some mumbled apologies or excuses, but instead they sat. He wondered if Sebastian was even aware that he was slowly caressing the back of Kurt's hand with his thumb.

"So what's the story here?" Sebastian finally asked, and Kurt's heart jumped with fear because he didn't know - he wasn't the one who'd reached for Sebastian's hand - but then he realized that Sebastian was looking around at the walls. He was asking about the tapestries.

He had to clear his throat before he could speak. "Well, it's a hunt," he said quietly, pointing out the panels with his free hand. "See - the hunters try to catch the unicorn, but he gets away. So then they bring in a virgin -"

"Ah, that old trick," Sebastian said, smiling wryly at Kurt.

"And the unicorn goes to the virgin and he's captured."

Sebastian's head turned to the next panel. "But then they kill him. That's how it ends?"

"No, this one is the last panel," Kurt said, nodding at the one in front of them. "The unicorn comes back to life."

Sebastian groaned. "So this is just like everything else here - some big religious allegory or something?"

"Some people think so. I think it's about love."

They were both staring straight ahead now, at the pure white unicorn in front of them, and the only movement between them was Sebastian's still-stroking thumb.

"You get trapped by a virgin then you die?" Sebastian guessed.

"That love can destroy you. But it can also bring you back to life."

Kurt had danced with Sebastian, had kissed him and ground against him, been blown by him and stroked his dick, but it still felt like the biggest and most intimate step he'd ever taken to simply let his own thumb move like Sebastian's, stroking gently along the side of his palm and little finger, and he could tell by the quick, tiny gasp that Sebastian felt it too.

"Kurt, I..."

"Sebastian?" A female voice called out, loud in the silent room, and Sebastian dropped his hand and jumped up so fast that Kurt, for a crazy, fleeting moment, half expected to turn around and find that he'd interrupted a date. But when he got up he found a beautifully, impeccably tailored but older woman, Sebastian's mother maybe, or an aunt?

"Did you get lost?" the woman asked and her sharp but so far kind eyes moved swiftly from Sebastian to Kurt, as though she was trying to figure out exactly what was going on here. You and me both, Kurt thought.

"I did not. I very deliberately ditched you," Sebastian said, but he sounded just a little contrite.

The woman frowned but Kurt could tell she was also amused.

"Come on, Mom. I couldn't take one more bared virgin breast. And those little pinching fingers..." Sebastian turned to Kurt and shuddered dramatically.

"And you found a friend," Sebastian's mother prompted him.

"This is Kurt," Sebastian's voice went quiet and serious, it was almost comical after the drama of his previous statement. "Kurt, this is my mom."

She held out her hand, so Kurt reached over the bench and shook it. "Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Smythe."

"Oh, please, Irene." She smiled and leaned a bit closer to Kurt. He could see now where Sebastian got his sparkling green eyes. "I hate Smythe. What is it, really, but a snobby version of Smith?" She lifted her delicate shoulders in a shrug. "But I married it, so I'm stuck."

Kurt wasn't sure how to react to that, but Sebastian laughed so he did too, just a little. Mrs. Smythe looked again from her son to Kurt and back. "So did you two just meet or . . .?"

"I know Kurt from glee club," Sebastian said quickly.

"Oh, do you go to Dalton too?"

"Rival glee clubs, actually," Sebastian jumped in again. Kurt wondered what he was afraid Kurt was going to say. "Kurt goes to McKinley High. In Lima."

"And what are you doing here in New York, Kurt?"

Kurt raised his eyebrows at Sebastian - he almost expected him to answer that too. When Sebastian didn't seem inclined to do so he said, "My dad had some meetings this weekend and he brought me for a college visit."

"Kurt's dad is Burt Hummel," Sebastian supplied.

"The congressman?" Mrs. Smythe asked. Kurt nodded. Mrs. Smythe smiled, "Well great minds must think alike. Tim and I brought Sebastian for a college visit too. He just got his early acceptance to Columbia." She said it with such pride that it made Kurt smile.

"Mom," Sebastian pleaded. Kurt could have sworn he saw a blush color Sebastian's cheeks and he couldn't help cocking a questioning eyebrow at him. Sebastian smiled at him almost - bashfully? - and Kurt had to take a moment to wonder what planet he'd been transported to where Sebastian took his hand so casually, and blushed, and introduced Kurt to his mom.

"Wow, Columbia. That's impressive."

Sebastian shrugged and stared off at one of the tapestries. "I write a good essay."

"So I've seen."

Sebastian's gaze flew back to Kurt and he looked like he couldn't quite figure out what Kurt meant by that comment. Something strange was crackling between them and Kurt really wanted to try to figure out what it was but Mrs. Smythe was still happily chattering, asking Kurt what school he'd been visiting, where he and his dad were staying, and, upon discovering that they were staying in an adjacent hotel, insisting that Kurt share their cab back, if he was done with his museum visit.

So they all made for the exit together, Sebastian and Kurt on either side of Mrs. Smythe, who kept up the conversation all on her own as the two boys exchanged furtive, appraising glances. They retrieved their jackets from the coat check and Sebastian flagged down a cab in front of the museum.

Kurt had a moment of panic about how they'd sit in the cab - should he get in first so that Sebastian could decide if he wanted to sit next to him or not? - but Sebastian saved him by holding the door open and gesturing to his mom with a haughty "My lady." He stood by the door, even after she was in, so Kurt followed, settling next to Mrs. Smythe. The cab seemed full of the buttery smell of her gorgeous leather coat, at least until Sebastian climbed in, his long limbs taking up every bit of available space, and then all of Kurt's senses were completely overwhelmed by him.

Sebastian kept a few careful inches between their bodies, but he draped an arm across the back of the seat and Kurt was acutely aware that it would only take a tiny shift for him to be leaning into Sebastian's hard torso; he could imagine that arm coming down around him, the long fingers that had been wrapped around his in the gallery stroking over his shoulder.

Words were spoken, he knew, on the trip back to the hotel, and some of them by him, but he couldn't have said what they were. His entire being was concentrated on not sinking into the embrace that Sebastian was (unconsciously, he was sure) offering. Sebastian was too close and there was too much uncertainty between them and by the time they pulled up in front of the Smythes' hotel Kurt's head was swimming in a way he definitely didn't like.

The exited the cab in reverse, except Sebastian, after clambering out himself, offered his hand to Kurt. Kurt had no choice but to take it; Sebastian pulled gently to help him out of the car and his fingers tightened briefly, so very briefly that Kurt thought he might have imagined it, before he let go and offered the same service to his mother.

Kurt made the quickest of thank yous and goodbyes - he needed to get away from Sebastian before he did something stupid - and turned to walk the block back to his own hotel. But he hadn't gotten three steps when Sebastian called after him.

"I'll walk back with you," he said, falling into step with Kurt.

"It's only a block."

"Well, you know, it is New York. Can't be too careful. You're definitely mugger bait." Sebastian grinned at him and Kurt knew he should have had a witty comeback for that but his brain was far too busy trying to figure out what the hell was going on. So they walked in silence, slowly, dragging out that one block as long as possible but neither, it seemed, willing to use that time to say anything of consequence. And all the way Kurt's hand tingled with the ghostly reminder of being clasped in Sebastian's.

"So this is where I get off," Kurt said finally when they reached his building and uniformed doormen opened twin glass doors for him.

Sebastian's eyes burned into his, but all he said was, "Well, enjoy the rest of your trip." He stood for a moment, like he was waiting for something, but finally sighed a little and said, "I guess I'll see you around."

And he turned and walked away. Just like that.

"Sebastian!" Kurt hadn't made any conscious decision to call him back, he'd just realized, looking at that straight back walking away, that if he let Sebastian go now he might never get another chance.

Sebastian turned back.

"I'm not doing anything tonight, I mean, if you're...you probably have plans with your family but, you know, if you don't then maybe we could...hang out, or..."

There was a very unpleasant moment where Kurt felt completely naked standing there on the sidewalk stammering, but then Sebastian took pity on him, lips quirking up in a smile that looked decidedly superior.

"Wait, are you, Kurt Hummel, asking me, Sebastian Smythe, out on a date?"

The irony of that statement, after their last encounter, was not lost on Kurt, but Sebastian's green eyes were full of humor and his phrasing felt more like a gentle reminder than any kind of admonishment. "I guess I am," he said. "And I know what I deserve, after the way I treated you, but I thought maybe we could put that behind us and, I don't know, start over?"

Sebastian, it seemed, wasn't above enjoying making Kurt squirm just a bit, and he held a nice, long, dramatic beat before leaning closer to Kurt to say, "One condition."

Kurt's heart leapt. "What?"

"I get to plan it. You just put on something outrageous and meet me down here at 7:30."

The oh-so-familiar challenge was back in Sebastian's eyes and Kurt couldn't help smiling in the face of it. "And I don't even get a hint about what we're doing?"

Sebastian shook his head slowly. "That's the deal, sweetheart. Take it or leave it."

"I'll take it." There wasn't even a split-second of hesitation in Kurt's response.

Sebastian's eyes darkened and for a minute there wasn't anyone else on the sidewalk but them. Then, without another word, he simply turned around and headed back to his end of the block.

Kurt viciously stifled the impulse to bounce as he marched past the doormen, through the lobby, and up in the elevator to his room. This was not a time for celebration. There were things he had to think about, consequences he had to weigh, choices to be made.

Several hours, one phone call to his dad, a supply run to a nearby pharmacy, and least four internal mind-changing debates later, Kurt's choice was very eloquently summed up by the aubergine leather pants reflected back at him in the mirror on the back of his bathroom door. Pants so tight that pulling up the zipper left him a little breathless. If the jeans he'd worn to the Dalton party said "I'll fuck you," as Sebastian had put it, then these pants, which he'd thrown in his garment bag on a whim, really, because New York was the only place he could wear something like this, screamed "I'll take you apart, own you, make you feel things you never knew you could feel. And then let you do the same thing to me."

Kurt straightened his skinny tie and pulled a short jacket on over his tailored white shirt. He knew Sebastian was thinking one of two things. Either he still wanted to try and date, or he was planning to, as Matthew had so eloquently described it, fuck Kurt and get it out of his system. And his afternoon of soul-searching had led Kurt to the conclusion that he was totally okay with either of those scenarios. Oh, there was no doubt that he wanted it to be the first one; the idea of Sebastian as his boyfriend did all kinds of crazy things to Kurt's insides that he couldn't afford to have happening in these painted-on pants. But if it was just sex, just tonight, well he could live with that too. The last time, at the Dalton party, had been surprising and frantic and completely mind-blowing, and if what he came away with tomorrow was a memory of one night of slow exploration, murmurs and moans and breaking new territory, luxuriating in the feel of Sebastian's body against his, well, he could handle that. More than that, he wanted it. He wanted so much more, but where Sebastian was concerned he was ready to take what he could get.

So tonight, he thought as he made his way back to the elevator at 7:28, he was going to be confident and sexy and show Sebastian Smythe exactly what he could expect with Kurt Hummel as a boyfriend. He was going to touch when he wanted to touch, flirt when he wanted to flirt. Kiss when he wanted to kiss. Tonight he was going to be Cinderella at the ball, making his own dreams come true.

Sebastian was waiting in the lobby when the elevator doors opened, his back to them, casually watching the fish float back and forth in the giant tank that separated the lobby area from the lounge.

"Do you come here often?"

Sebastian turned, eyebrows raised, clearly ready to excoriate Kurt's pitiful attempt at a pick-up line, but halfway round his eyes fell on the pants and his expression went from sarcastic to slack-jawed astonishment so fast Kurt had to suppress a laugh.

"Holy shit, Kurt!"

"Is this outrageous enough for you?" Kurt asked innocently.

Sebastian's eyes dragged back and forth from Kurt's crotch to his eyes. "If I asked you to turn around," he said, his voice hoarse in a way that made Kurt's stomach flutter, "is there any chance you'd actually do it?"

Kurt did a pirouette in slow motion. He could almost hear Sebastian's brain register that there was no way he could have fit underwear inside that tight leather.

"Holy shit," Sebastian said again, weakly this time, and Kurt had to stifle the urge to giggle. He was pretty sure that giggling would totally destroy the "I'm going to fuck you until you can't remember your own name" vibe the pants were creating.

"Is that all you can say?" Kurt asked, when they were face-to-face again.

"I'm trying to remember why we're even leaving this hotel. Room service sounds pretty fucking good right now."

But despite the come-on line, Kurt could tell he'd knocked Sebastian for a serious loop. This was definitely not what he'd been expecting from a date with Kurt Hummel, and Kurt liked that. It made him feel powerful and that made him bold.

"Well you know what they say," he said, stepping closer to Sebastian and issuing a challenge of his own. "Good things come to those who wait."

Then he walked away toward the main doors, giving his hips just a tiny wiggle. When Sebastian didn't follow immediately he paused, and looked back over his shoulder in what he was sure was an outrageously flirtatious way. But he didn't even care.

"Or don't you think this is worth the wait?"

Sebastian moved fast then, wrapping an arm around Kurt's waist and side-stepping the doorman so that he could open one of the doors for Kurt himself. "Believe me, sweetheart," he whispered as they stepped out onto the crowded sidewalk, "I know it is."