A/N – Well, this is the official end. I'm sorry it's taken so long. I've officially run out of steam when it comes to Glee (I've not seen the final season either and I don't particularly want to). I miss my co-writers. A lot. And not only for the writing & the motivation they provided, but for the friendship & the chats. It's ridiculous that you can be so affected by someone you've never actually met, but there it is.

Maybe I'll come back to the Glee fandom one day (if gBw ever resurfaces, I will try to talk him into finishing A Matchless Match, because it was ever so fun to write with him, and I hate leaving things unfinished) but I doubt it.

It's only my OCD need to finish things that has driven me to complete this and I genuinely hope you enjoy it. I also hope that it still flows with the rest of the story preceding it as I'm a little rusty and haven't gone back to read it all. It doesn't tie up everything, but reality is like that.

Thank you for sticking with me. It's been fun.

Blaine looked up at the building in front of him with a sigh. It didn't loom like it had all those months ago, nor did he feel trepidation or uncertainty nipping at his heels simply at the prospect of walking in. William McKinley High was, instead, standing before him as nothing more than an ordinary high school, but it now housed a number of memories -some unsettling, some extraordinarily happy- and Blaine realized with startling clarity that he was actually going to miss the place.

It was hard to believe that he had made it to graduation, especially after such a rocky start. But the last year had seemingly flown by in a direct contrast to its precursor.

"B, dude, we made it!" Sam exclaimed happily, slinging his robe-clad arm across Blaine's shoulders and pressing a short kiss to the brunette's temple. "How awesome do you feel right now?"

They'd completed the ceremony about a half hour earlier and now families of the graduating class were milling about on the front lawn, taking photos and watching as teenagers embraced, cheered and cried. Due to their closeness in extra-curricular clubs and teams, a number of the previous year's seniors had also resurfaced to cheer on this year's graduates, making it seem as though there were swarms more teenagers than there should be.

Blaine pressed himself against Sam's chest, grinning. "Pretty awesome," he admitted, craning his neck to gaze into his boyfriend's eyes. "I was just thinking, there was a time when I didn't think it would end this way. Happily, I mean."

Sam was silent for a bit. "I'm glad you didn't go for the whole early graduation-slash-college admittance thing," he said, "I mean, you probably wasted your brain power or whatever by staying the extra however many months, but...y'know...I woulda' missed you."

"And I would have missed you too, Sam. Not that I only stuck around for you, of course."

Sam snorted at the teasing comment, "Of course," he nodded dutifully.

They had argued about it for weeks when Sam had discovered Blaine was ditching early admittance to stay in high school. Blaine had tried to use his prominent positions on the lacrosse and football teams, as well as in New Directions and various other clubs, as his justification for seeing the year out, but Sam felt as though he was the reason Blaine was holding himself back. Eventually, during a week where Blaine held all sexual acts ransom in order for Sam to actually stop and listen to him, Blaine was able to convince the blond that it didn't matter why he had made the decision, it was still his choice to make and he was happy with it.

Though suitably chastised, this didn't stop Sam from occasionally dropping the odd snark about it into conversation.

Blaine rolled his eyes and smacked his boyfriend's chest lightly. "I'm serious. If I had left, I never would have seen or, more importantly, taken part in the ass-whooping we gave Dalton across the board. I needed that, Sam."

"Dudes, talkin' about asses and needing it out here in the open? Tsk, tsk...what would your parents say?" Puck leered as he sauntered up, winking as some cheerleader passed them by. He and Lauren were in the 'off again' phase of their usual cycle, what with Lauren having graduated the previous year and Puck having to repeat.

Sam rolled his eyes while Blaine replied dryly, "Mine'd probably say: 'What the hell are we doing in Lima? Has hell frozen over?' Or something."

Blaine's emancipation had also officially gone through that year, and Sam had been there every step of the way, much to the brunette's relief. Though he had tried to maintain emotional indifference, the last face off against the Andersons had driven him into a mild depression where his mind constantly circled over the question: why wasn't he good enough?

If it hadn't been for Sam and the Evans family, and the odd circle of friends he'd accumulated at McKinley, Blaine might still have felt broken by his parents' dismissal. But they'd all -with the added assistance of a court ordered therapist- gradually helped Blaine to realize that the issue was not his, but his parents'. He still had moments of melancholy, but he found that he had achieved his closure where his parents were concerned, and he was now comfortable enough to joke about them.

Puck reached out and gave his teammate a fist-bump. He was no stranger to the dead beat parent scenario himself. "Fuck 'em, Anderson."

Blaine nodded his agreement, and that was all that had to be said. He was glad to have made a friend of other jock after all the drama of the previous year. He'd taken Puck's words to heart and had made a concerted effort to not hold himself above the other guys on the team, and had found that -with the notable exception of Lipoff and Surette, who had graduated the previous year- they were actually a pretty cool group of guys. He wasn't close to them like he was with his Glee-mates, but they had encouraged him to try out for the football team and had invited him around to a couple of video game marathons (wherein he'd learned that he sucked at Halo but rocked at CoD. Go figure.) He was actually kind of pleased to learn that he'd be seeing a couple of them around his college campus the next Fall, even if they'd be in different classes.

"You comin' to Señorita Loca's party tonight?" Puck asked, shaking Blaine from his musings. "I heard you guys blew off last year's party to blow each other, or whatever, but this is our last one. And, okay, I know that technically last year was her last one 'coz she graduated or whatever, but this will be the official last one, y'know?"

"Why, Puckerman, I didn't know you cared," Blaine teased, used to Puck's vulgarity by now. "Are you trying to say that you'll miss us?"

Puck shook his head and gave Sam a look, "You've been letting him hang out with Hummel too much. He's starting to talk like him. Rein your girlfriend in, Evans, before he turns in to our resident Princess. One is bad enough."

Sam laughed. "Kurt's a little possessive. I think he'd knife me if tried to get in between that friendship."

"Knife? Oh, Honey, no. Too pedestrian," the boy in question said as he joined the group, Finn following him over and bumping fists with Sam and Puck, then, after a moment's hesitation, Blaine. Kurt kept speaking, "I think I'd make a shiv out of a nail file or something. Or put Nair in your conditioner."

Sam's hands flew to his head, his eyes widening in horror. "Not the hair, Dude. Too far."

Blaine just shook his head and accepted a hug from Kurt, the first friend he'd made when he came to McKinley. Outside of Sam, Kurt was the person he was closest to. He'd miss him when they all went their separate ways for college. Thank God for things like Facebook and Skype.

"So what are we talking about, Gentlemen?" Kurt asked the odd little group in general, his arm hooked into Blaine's.

"Santana's grad party and whether these two ladies will grace us with their presence this year," Puck answered.

Kurt gave Sam and Blaine each an imploring look. "You have to come! Last year, Rachel got wasted and climbed onto the dining room table and proceeded to howl love songs across the room at Finn who, at that point, was making out with Quinn...and when that failed, she spent the rest of the night alternating between crying and vomiting. I need back up to make sure this won't happen again. I refuse to sacrifice another pair of designer shoes to little miss diva's inability to hold her liquor or emotions."

Blaine laughed while Sam addressed Finn, "But I thought you and Rach were dating again?"

Before the tall teen could answer, Kurt explained, "My brother the genius-" his tone said he thought Finn was anything but, "broke up with her last night."

There were a chorus of groans from the other boys. Finn bristled.

"She got into NYADA this year," he defended with a frown, "As of next week, she's gonna be living in New York and I'm still gonna be stuck here in Lima. As if that was ever gonna work."

Rachel hadn't nailed her audition the previous year and had spent her first year out of school doing everything possible to get into her dream college as a late admittance while enjoying the extra time she could spend with her boyfriend. Finn hadn't made a secret of how pleased he had been that she had been stuck in Lima with him post graduation after all, and they had all thought the couple were making plans to head to New York together.

"But you dumped her before Santana's party? Even I think that's a dick move, Bro." Puck was the first to jump in, surprising the others. Then he added, "But if it means that there's another hot Jewish princess back on the market, and on the rebound, I can't really complain..." He paused, seemingly distracted by something, a slow smirk creeping across his face. "And on that note, I'm gonna run." He'd just spied his mother talking to the very subject of their conversation. "Catch ya at the party, Losers."

It took Finn a moment to catch on to the implications of Puck's statement as he followed the mohawked boy's gaze, reaching out and taking hold of his shoulder as he began his retreat. "What? No, Dude. You can't go after Rachel."

"The hell not? She's a hot single Jew, I'm a hot single Jew..."

"Because...because...You just can't!"

The other three watched in amusement as Puck sauntered off, Finn following and nagging him.

"Sometimes, I worry about him," Kurt said with exaggerated concern.

They continued to talk and banter as though this wasn't the last time they'd be together at school doing just that until Sam's family approached. Sam's Dad put himself between Sam and Blaine and slung an arm over each boy's shoulder, giving them a simultaneous shake.

"Congratulations, boys!" He grinned, "High School is officially over."

Mary offered them each a gentle smile, her hands grasping her two younger children's'. "My baby's all grown up!"

"Aww, Mom!" Sam groaned, but everyone could tell it was in fun.

"We're so proud of both of you boys," she continued as though he hadn't spoken, "And you're both going away to College…"

Surprising both Dwight and Mary, the boys had chosen to attend separate Colleges based on the courses they had each gotten into. They'd be separated by a drive of a couple of hours, so wouldn't see each other as regularly as they would like, but Blaine had argued that neither of them should choose a degree that they didn't really want just for the sake of living closer to –or even with- their boyfriend.

It had taken a lot of convincing, but eventually Sam agreed that their futures were more important than their current dating life. Considering neither boy had originally thought they'd be attending College (Blaine for financial reasons and Sam for academic), they were both excited to make the most of the experience. And they'd spend most weekends together anyway.

"Does this mean I can have Sam's room?" Stevie asked with a grin. His own was the smallest in the house and, though he hadn't cared when Sam was living with them, he thought it'd be cool to have a bigger space that had already been decorated by a teenager.

Sam laughed and lunged at his younger doppelgänger, messing up the smaller blond's hair. "I'm not even out the door yet and you're already taking over my spot, huh? And what's wrong with your room now, anyway?"

"Duh," the kid responded cheekily. "Your room's bigger. Plus, once you're gone, I become the man of the house. Well, after Dad."

"Those are big shoes to fill, Little Man," Dwight said with a smile.

Stevie looked down at Sam's sneakers solemnly and nodded, causing everyone else to laugh.

-?-

"Oomph!" Blaine exhaled as he was pushed back into a wall. His arms immediately pulled his attacker towards him. He smirked a little and teased, "Someone's impatient tonight."

Sam chuckled, "Like you haven't been deliberately turning me on since we got here."

Santana's party was in full swing, and they had already made the rounds and chatted with all their friends, Sam even allowing Kurt his 'last chance to dirty dance' (Kurt's words) with Blaine. The music Santana had chosen was a bizarre mix of graduation themed songs, Spanish pop and some of the most filthy club music Sam had ever heard (and there had been a brief time where he'd considered taking on stripping as a job, so it wasn't as if he hadn't come across a few dirty songs before).

After a few drinks (they were taking a cab back to Blaine's so they could both indulge), Sam had become acutely aware of the fact that his boyfriend was wearing his tightest pair of jeans. Worse still, he'd noticed that Blaine was starting to do a little…interpretive dancing…when the more risqué lyrics began to echo across Santana's lounge room. When the brunette had somehow materialised an ice block that was rather phallic by nature, and had started to lick at it in an incredibly distracting manner, Sam had decided that enough was enough.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Blaine replied, his tone coy and his eyes rounded with faux-innocence.

Sam laughed again and pressed himself against his boyfriend, kissing at the lips that had so recently pushed him beyond distraction. He could still taste the frozen, saccharine, fake lemonade flavour on Blaine's tongue. "Sure you don't," he managed as he pulled back a bit, feeling amused and aroused by the pout on Blaine's face.

"Hey, gay boys, get a room already," Santana cried as she passed by, grinning. "And if it's gonna be my room, watch out for the web cam. Britts likes to film things, y'know." She paused and turned back to face them. "On second thought…"

"No, Santana," Sam shook his head with a smile, "You're not filming us having sex."

She sighed. "Spoil sport. Bet I coulda' made a lot of money with a tape like that. Coulda' called it 'Two Hot Jocks' or 'Broke Boys Mountin'' or 'Two Guys, No Girl and No Pizza Place'."

Blaine, in a testament to how much he'd had to drink, giggled. "I like the last one."

Sam shook his head with a fond smile, "So I'm pretty sure that's our cue to head home. Great party, Santana." Despite their differences the previous year, they really had all kinda bound back together for the end, and Santana had made an effort to be nicer one she'd graduated for Brittany's –who was still going to be at school for a year- sake. He really would miss Señorita Loca, even if he never wanted to date her again.

Her face fell for a moment as she appeared to sober. "Can't believe it's really the last one." She'd stayed in Lima for Brittany, deferring her first year of college to earn a bit of cash and make sure nobody took advantage of the easily swayed blonde in her supposed absence. Now that Britt had graduated and they could move on together, this truly would be the last party she threw for their high school experience.

"Pfft," he replied dismissively, waving the hand that wasn't wrapped around his boyfriend, "For High School maybe. But I get the feeling we'll have a few reunion parties for sure."

She brightened and nodded. "Hells yeah we will. I refuse to let someone like Berry arrange those festivities." Her eyes caught sight of the girl in question and she started to move in her direction, hollering, "Hey, Manhands, I'm in control of the reunion shit, capiche?"

Rachel looked like a deer in headlights as Santana wrapped her perfectly manicured hand around her wrist and dragged her off, presumably to lecture her all about the parties that Rachel would not be throwing.

Sam watched them go and let out a fond chuckle before he turned back to Blaine. "So," he began, his voice dropping an octave, and he pressed his boyfriend back into the wall, allowing his hips to undulate to the beat of Nine Inch Nails' Closer. Blaine ground back against him, his hands making their way under the back of Sam's shirt. Sam smirked and brought his lips to the shell of the other boys ear, whispering roughly,"Back to your place?"

Blaine shivered at the sensation (cursing Sam for knowing exactly which of his buttons to press) and nodded eagerly. "Uh huh," he agreed emphatically, even as he closed his eyes and pulled Sam even closer still, his hips seeking more delicious friction.

Sam's own eyes slid shut and he enjoyed the frottage a little while longer, mouthing at the exposed skin at the junction of Blaine's neck and shoulder, only pulling away reluctantly when a strangled sound of arousal from the back of Blaine's throat jolted him enough to recall that they were not in a private setting. "We should probably call a taxi," he said by way of explanation when Blaine's accusatory glare landed on him.

Taking a moment to collect himself, the brunette nodded. "I guess," he acknowledged, even though he wanted nothing more than to say 'Fuck it' and rut against his boyfriend, here in a darkened corner of Santana's house, until they both came. He was still sober enough, though, to realise that that wouldn't be smart. "Santana'd probably make good on her threat and I don't want to be an Internet porn sensation."

Sam laughed and fished his phone from his pocket, dialling for a cab and bringing it to his ear. While he waited for an operator, he answered his beau, "Hell no. Nobody's allowed to see your dick but me…Oh! Sorry!" He blushed a deep red and Blaine assumed the operator had caught the tail end of Sam's alcohol aided lack of inhibitions.

He couldn't contain his giggles while Sam –still bright pink- gave the address details to the person on the other end of the line. Sam couldn't get off the phone fast enough. Taking pity on his embarrassed boyfriend, Blaine took his hand and wound Sam's arm around his waist, "While we're waiting for the cab, tell me more about the things that only you're allowed to do," he demanded quietly, "and when we get back to my place I might just let you do them."

Sam was suitably distracted from his embarrassment instantly.

-?-

The cab ride back seemed to take forever, and the many flights of stairs weren't really appreciated by either boy either (though, after Blaine bounded in front of him just to show off his spectacular ass in those tight jeans, Sam repeated a little history and swooped his giggling boyfriend off his feet, carrying him up towards their Fortress of Solitude.)

Once inside, they made short work of divesting their clothing (Sam still grumbling about the struggle of getting Blaine out of those sinfully tight pants of his) and kissed their way to the bed, the back of Sam's calves connecting with the mattress before he fell backwards, pulling Blaine down with him.

"Gonna miss this," Blaine confessed in a whisper before he started planting languid, slightly sloppy kisses in a trail down Sam's jaw, then his neck and collarbone.

Sam's left hand moved of its own accord to the back of Blaine's lightly gelled mop of hair. "Uh huh," he agreed, his eyes drifting shut as the kisses morphed somewhat into an exploration of his body by Blaine's tongue. His right hand moved down between them to grasp at himself when the brunette gave his nipple a teasing lick. "Definitely gonna miss this."

Blaine shook his head, pulling away for a moment – long enough for Sam to open his eyes and meet his gaze, abandoning his own ministrations at the brief melancholy expression that passed over the brunette's features. "Not just the sex," Blaine clarified, "This. This place. Us. I mean, this is like the first place…the only place…where we've ever been just us, y'know?"

Sam couldn't help the tender smile that pulled at his lips, and he gave the room a brief glance. It hadn't been much, but it had been Blaine's first real home and he had made it perfect. The memories they'd shared here were wonderful –from simply bantering and gaming, to the first time they'd had sex, and all the things in between- and Sam had to admit that he would be sad to leave it behind.

"We'll have someplace like this again," the blonde told his boyfriend with absolute certainty. He knew that statistically most high school relationships didn't last, especially when they were separated by State borders, but in that moment he knew, he just knew, that he and Blaine weren't going to be just another statistic. "I promise, B."

Blaine looked for a moment as though he would argue and list all the reasons why he shouldn't be making such a promise, but the expression was fleeting and replaced by a bright smile. "I'll hold you to that," he said, before pulling himself back up to draw Sam into a deep kiss that had them both distracted before long.

The discussion was soon forgotten (especially once Blaine did that thing with his tongue that was always guaranteed to have Sam seeing stars, and then Sam was inside Blaine and all concentration was spent on prolonging the experience until its inevitable -but euphoric- conclusion), but the words were not. Eventually, within weeks of them each graduating College, Sam saw through his teenaged promise, signing his name with a flourish beside Blaine's own on a lease for a small apartment on the outskirts of LA.

"Should I carry you over the threshold?" Sam offered cheekily after they had been handed the keys and found themselves standing outside the door.

Blaine shot him a vaguely amused grin and shook his head, turning the handle and stepping in to the small, barren space. No, it didn't look like much, but it was so much like The Fortress that he thought it was perfect for them, and worth the last few years of strain, separation and frustration. There had been times he had thought they wouldn't make it, even a few months there at the beginning where they had broken up and each been completely miserable and unwilling to date anyone else, but stepping into their first apartment together felt exactly as it should.

It felt like coming home.

THE END