wherever you go, you can always come home

So, the terrifying thing about having a first date that isn't limited by the constraints of Ohioan society and school schedules is that Kurt has no idea what to wear. In fact, he's starting to wonder how he even managed to pick anything at all back home for their early dates, because the amount of fretting he's making over every detail is borderline absurd. He gave Blaine the instruction to pick something that's relatively easy to move in, but the fact of the matter is that for Kurt, that statement applies to practically everything he wears. He can move easily, even if it's uncomfortable — the sacrifices made for fashion, after all.

The overarching theme seems to be that he needs to dress to impress. Slimming outfits are key. Clothes that complement his complexion, clothes that make his ass look fantastic, clothes that aren't too easy access, but aren't just layers upon layers. (It feels silly, after all, to be wearing so many layers when they've already made out when hardly dressed at all.) In the end, Kurt settles on an inspired red and black silk shirt and tight black jeans, complete with asymmetrical black leather jacket for the duration of the outdoor walk.

Beyond that, there are other things to prepare as well. Making sure that as many of the locks in the theater are unlocked as possible, save for the entrance, because the last thing that Kurt wants to do is spend overly much time jiggling doorknobs. Hiding away little surprises on the stage, and a basket of food and sparkling cider on the catwalk. Walking more than a few times down its length, just to make sure that it's secure. And, perhaps most importantly of all, venturing out to one of the florist shops in the area, cutting a robust bouquet of roses and wrapping them carefully with green ribbon.

In the end, in spite of everything, Kurt ends up at Blaine's door exactly on time, trying to will away the flush on his face as he knocks on the door. Praying, almost, that this goes well.